Hans Wins
by wooftypeofgale
Summary: Summer was restored and good triumphed over evil in Arendelle! The folks in this tale, truly lived happily ever after. But for the kingdom of Casmont, the madness is just beginning. With a nightmarish storm on the way, and a binding alliance with the Westegaards, will Casmont overcome it's devastation? Or will a twist in fate conjure a story in which Hans wins?
1. Prologue

A/N: Hi, everyone! This is actually more of a spitball fanfiction – I'm just throwing it out there. I do confess that I don't know the names of all the Princes of the Southern Isles, nor do I know the names of the king and queen. If there's a wiki about them that I haven't stumbled upon during my research, please let me know. I'd like to get my facts right. But for now, I've given them Danish names. Anyone reading, do enjoy and I hope to hear from you in the reviews. Thank you!

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters except the Mauds and associates.

Prologue

Casmont, a busy, productive, minute kingdom. The forefathers, voyagers of French-Austrian decent, claimed it's early islands sandwiched between Australia and Madagascar.

The east islands of Casmont are known as the Fields, where the soil is has an unearthly and exceptional quality. Farmers toil lightly in exchange for abundant crops and healthy, large livestock. The west side is a feverish fishing farm, commonly called the Shores, where dozens of various fish are raised and reaped and the process continues to repeat. The warm temperate Shores make for a favourable vineyard as well, where wondrous wines are pressed. The Mount, the northern area of Casmont, is gravid with jewels and valuable metals for the taking. Miners manage the bergs without stress and rest knowing they've harvested more than the day before. Then, there is the central island that grows from the east ones. The central island is residential. The large, pristine castle of Casmont is perched on the top of green rolling hills with homes of the other residents sliding down the hills.

"How do you feel, Madolen?" asks Hettie, a woman of her mid-forties tasked with the job of taking care of the young princess. "Excited?"

"Yes," starts the chocolate skinned girl, "but I have my worries."

"Nonsense," Hettie insists, finishing the braided crown on Madolen's head with a flourish. "Don't you look like a pretty portrait?"

Madolen looks into the mirror at the vanity table she sits on. Her ebony hair matches her large, almond shaped, thoughtful eyes. "Isn't this a little much for a simple meeting?" asks she, eyes on her own in the mirror, with brows bundled in concern.

"I was said to doll you up, and I did," says Hettie, her warm brown eyes admiring the princess. "I was expecting a 'thank you!' or something along those lines."

"I'm sorry, Miss Hettie," laughs Madolen. "Thank you. I do like it – very much."

"But of course," beams Hettie. "Besides, I'm sure it's a routine visit, just like with all the other royals."

Madolen has a storm of words on her tongue, but the ones that escape her are the only ones that aren't there. "Yes, Miss Hettie." Before Madolen can say any more, there's a knock at the bedroom door.

"Come in," Hettie chirps.

King Wiatt, Madolen's father, stands behind the open door, a delighted smile on his face. "Look at you, chocolate," the king cheerily remarks.

"Da!" Madolen cheers, rushing to her father. He catches her in his arms and draws her into a great hug that brings her feet off the ground due to her small stature in contrast to his large, sturdy one. The more pertinent contrast is the fair skin her father (and mother) has making it clear to all that blood is not what makes Madolen the king and queen's daughter.

Wiatt sets Madolen back on the ground and palms his hands to his knees in a bid to be eye to eye with his daughter. "The guests are here, chocolate."

"Yes," Madolen wrings her hands together and casts her eyes on the ground. "I suppose I should be there to greet them."

"You'd be robbing them of a great honour if you didn't, my dear," Wiatt tells, cupping Madolen's cheek to redirect her gaze into his own blue eyes. "You worry far too much for a girl of seventeen years." He teases with a wicked, playful smile. "But you're also much too insightful and intuitive for a man or woman of many ages greater than yours."

"So you say."

"And your mother, and Hettie, and every ambassador and merchant that has ever crossed you," informs the king. "I've never been complemented on anyone nor anything else more frequently than you." They share a quiet understanding before Wiatt rises and takes Madolen's hand in his. "Let's not keep our crowd waiting." Hettie joins the pair and the three head down the corridors of the large, lavishly decorated palace, greeted by merry staff as they wind through. After passing through a great many sightly portraits, they arrive at two heavy doors that lead to the Throne Room. Wiatt looks once more at his silent child, "Are you ready, chocolate?"

She commands a smile to her features and nods, "I am."

Wiatt throws the doors open and the pair strut into a spacious and well lit (despite the sun having set hours before) throne room with goliath chandeliers and intricate carpeting and curtaining. Hettie stays against the wall by the door, awaiting any requests. At one end of the room, sit three thrones on a raised platform, one occupied by the ocean eyed, milk skinned Queen Nancy of Casmont.

"I was beginning to wonder if you two would ever show," grins Nancy jokingly from her poised, positon.

Father and child start to the thrones, and once there both offer affectionate gestures to Nancy. A peck on the cheek from a cherishing husband and a needed hug from a needed daughter. They sit at their respective thrones, king in the centre of the family.

"Something on your mind, sweets?" Nancy questions, mothering eyes on Madolen.

"Yes, but nothing I don't have a hold of," assures she. "Perhaps a case of pre-meeting jitters."

"You've joined us at many of these silly things," says Nancy with a relaxed smile. "Your nerves will cower as they always do."

Madolen smiles thankfully and the doors fly open again, and announcer strides in followed by two proud men and a machinelike woman. Madolen's eyes fly over them curiously. The first man is much older than the second, around the age of Wiatt, and he strides with confident purpose. The second man is in his mid-thirties and shares many features of the first - red hair, and freckled fair skin. His eyes, however, match the woman's. The woman is older than the second man. She has soft, brown, washed out eyes that scream of sedative.

"Introducing King Berde, Queen Sorina and Prince Runo Westegaard of the Southern Isles," tells the man with the duty of telling. The Westegaards offer two bows and a curtsy. Wiatt, Nancy and Madolen rise as they've risen many times before as greeting. "And King Wiatt, Queen Nancy and Princess Madolen Maud of Casmont." The Mauds offer a bow and two curtsies before stepping down to converse with their visitors.

"It's an honour to meet you all at last," says Berde.

"Likewise, King Berde," Wiatt tells. "We've anticipated your arrival. You're well aware of our situation."

"Yes," says Sorina. "We were sorry to see the predictions."

"We hope that's all they are, predictions," tells Nancy. "A famine that drastic could be detrimental for Casmont. Although we flourish now, we can't be sure of the years to come."

"Nor can we be certain that if damage is done, that it's reversible," says Wiatt.

As the kings and queens converse a chat of a cultured kind, Madolen listens intently, sapping up all the knowledge there is to sap. Out of the corner of her eye, she spies a set of eyes on her – those of the prince. She hesitantly dares to meet his eyes, and finds him grinning at her. She looks away directly, a feeling of uneasiness heavy on her shoulders.

"I think that we could make a lot of money if we collaborate," King Berde's voice draws Madolen out of her mind. "I've sent you documents of the plans in mind."

"I've received them, and thought on them," Wiatt informs.

"But an answer will have to be waited on," Nancy chimes in with a structural tone, "as we have a dinner prepared in your honour."

"How kind of you," says King Berde politely, but fragments of annoyance at a delay land on Madolen's ears. "We are quite hungry after such a voyage."

"Then let's not leave the food to get cold in the Dining Hall," smiles Wiatt. "This way."

As the adults begin to file out of the hall, Madolen meets Hettie's gaze. Hettie offers her a reassuring smile, one full of confidence.

"Ahem," comes a deep voice, calling for Madolen's attention. Runo is beside Madolen, gesturing at the door. "After you, my lady."

"Oh, okay," she says, putting on a smile. "Thank you."

"Of course," Runo ushers Madolen out with a strong hand on her back. As they start down the hall after their parents, Runo's hand remains on Madolen. She tenses ever so slightly, waiting with a held breath for him to return it to himself. "You have a beautiful home," he says instead.

"It is," Madolen beams, looking up at him. "Full of art and history and effort. I appreciate your words."

"Has this always been your home?"

"Yes," says Madolen. "I was raised here as a child. I don't remember any other home."

"Strange. You and your parents are-"

"Very different," Madolen says. "Yes. My mother couldn't have any children of her own, and one day a woman came into the palace offering me to her when I was a baby. The woman was sick and had no family, so my parents took me in… or so I'm told."

"You have kind parents."

"Among the kindest people I know," Madolen looks up again at Runo.

"It's a pity that such misfortune should happen to you."

Madolen smiles a polite smile. "Yes, it is. The predicted weather is a scary thought. I hope we're strong enough to face it."

...

"The crops are a less than we reasoned they'd be but the amount is still staggering," says Nancy as dinner comes to a close. "It wouldn't make sense to have all this food and not make something grand for our guests that have come so far, now would it?"

"If any kingdom can poison someone it'd be Casmont as the food is irresistible," jokes Runo, eyes pinched, a glass of glass of wine in hand.

Laughter bounces off of the walls and as it simmers, a content attitude fills the atmosphere.

"I must thank you for all your hospitality," starts Berde, "but we should be on our way again." He looks to Runo beside him.

"A king's work is never done," grins Wiatt.

Nancy interjects, "Nor a queen's."

"I'd like to leave knowing that this meeting was a total success," says Berde.

"Oh, right! The business agreement, of course," Wiatt sits up straight. "Casmont would be happy to have the Southern Isles as a trade partner."

"Excellent," Berde grins.

"And regarding the second part of our meeting, we're quite honoured that you came to us," begins Nancy, "but Madolen is a bit young for Runo."

"Nonsense," Berde says. "Age is such a little thing to be worried about."

Madolen looks between the respective families, an 'aha!' moment taking place in her head. 'I _knew_ something was going on!' she thinks to herself.

"We'd still be willing to consider an engagement, but to a Westegaard of relative age," says Wiatt.

"And _only_ if he's a Westegaard of relative age," Nancy firmly adds beside her husband, Madolen on the other side of Wiatt. Although the condition if Casmont deteriorates, the stubbornness of its queen does not. Come a flood or drought, a blizzard or tornado, Nancy's priorities will always be her family's happiness.

King Berde rubs his chin, thoughtful.

Queen Sorina, speaks up, "We do have a son of a more reasonable age. He's twenty-five this year. It's only an eight year gap."

"No, not him," says Runo. "How can we be sure-"

Runo is silenced by the raised hand of his father's. "Sorina is right. We have a son of relative age. He's a learned man, healthy, strong. He would make a good husband for Princess Madolen."

Madolen looks directly at Berde at the mention of her name. Then her eyes fix on her parents who are thoughtful.

"We don't want to put our daughter in a hard place," says Nancy.

"It's alright, Ma," says Madolen. "I know that what's at risk is bigger than what I think. Many souls worked hard to bring Casmont to its glory, and I'll do my part but only if my part means something."

"Oh it does," says Berde. "Unity between the Southern Isles and Casmont would not only double, no, triple the amount of produce and money, but it'll be the foundation of many more unions in a grand scheme. If the predictions of Casmont's weather are true, allied with us you'd show mother nature who's boss."

"I see," says Madolen. "I want that, to make a real difference, to defend Casmont the best I can. If this partnership and consequent marriage will be the start of it, I'll do it."

"Are you sure, Madolen?" asks Wiatt at his daughter's side.

"I'll do anything for Casmont," smiles Madolen genuinely. "Anything includes marriage."

"...Well, then… we are open to meeting with this new Westegaard," says Nancy, speaking with her hands. "We can't say it's a definitive yes to marriage, but the courting period is in tow."

"Good," says Berde. "You'll be pleased to meet Hans."

Thank you for reading thus far. I hope to see you next time and do leave a review.


	2. Chapter 1

Chapter One

A/N: Hi, guys! I'm going to be irregular, but hopefully consistent. Hope you enjoy the content and let me know what you think in the reviews.

Disclaimer: I don't own Frozen and/or anything pertaining to it.

"Is the manure difficult today, brother?" sneers Caleb, atop his horse with a smug smile. The bone biting wind whips through his golden hair and against his pinched honey coloured eyes.

I sigh a forlorn breath, mentally and emotionally worn down from the constant belittlement. This has become routine. In the midst of this _humiliating_ punishment, my brothers would take turns spitting unkind remarks as some sort of juvenile sport.

I dig my shovel into a clump of waste, but as I attempt to heave the load proves deceptively heavy. I grunt with effort, fighting the weight under the setting sun. A fly buzzes by my ear, returning still after I shoo it away more than enough times.

"Come now, Hans," starts Rudi, he too is perched on a horse. The pair start to trot around me in circles, no doubt enjoying the sight of me in such a low position. "Put your back into it!"

'Come on, _come on_!' I heave once again, but the outcome is far from ideal. The shovel snaps in twain, causing me to almost slip at the impact. "Woah!" I flail my arms around, trying to find balance with my shoes slipping in horse manure in almost every direction.

"Look at him go!" jeers Rudi, clapping in delight.

I upright myself, and look back at my brothers. There laughter only makes me more livid. I toss the shaft of the shovel at Caleb, the first target in sight. "Don't you have a kingdom to watch over now that mom and dad are gone?" I fume.

"We need to have some fun along the road, eh, brother?" is Caleb's response.

"I'm not your clown," I tell.

"You sure look like one," retorts Rudi, pulling his mare to a stop.

"Well, I'm not," I say, staring defiantly into the brown eyes of my elder siblings before marching off.

"Where are you going?" hoots Caleb, a laugh in his voice.

"Where I go is none of your business," I shout back over my shoulder, throwing my arm out in annoyance. I stomp toward the castle, different eyes on me. Ever since my return to the Southern Isles, things haven't been the same. The looks I get are of disdain, or shame, or jest, or fear. My home. Where I was raised, I'm treated like an alien amongst my own. Granted, my upbringing wasn't the most pleasant, nor have I ever truly enjoyed the thought of this miserable rock as my home… there just persists the feeling of want for admiration from those around me – especially from here.

I reach the castle and hurry to my room, ready to retreat to my thoughts.

"Hey, look who's back from the stables!" alerts my fair haired brother, Franz, as I enter the lobby. I attempt to move past him, but he grabs my shoulder in a firm grip. "Leaving so soon?"

"I'm not in the mood for this," I try to pull away, but Jurgen comes down a set of stairs into the foyer to greet me too. He grabs me in a headlock. "Let go of me!" I grumble, fighting the lock.

"Relax, Hans," starts he, "all I want is for you to spend some time with you." The lock grows tighter and tighter, making it more of a natural task to take in air.

I pull free of his grasp, "I preferred being invisible," I gasp loudly, hacking right after at the new rush of air. Once my breathing steadies, I glare at my brunette brother, frustration boiling under my skin. I charge up the stairs that Jurgen immerged from, my brothers' snickers following me to my room. When I finally step inside, I shut the door and rest my back against it, releasing a long breath, shoulders drooping immensely. My eyebrows bundle as I deny any emotions of despair. Another long breath is released in the darkness of my room, words of acknowledgement flying airily out of my mouth, "I failed."

I've known that for a long time. It's been a year since the scandal in Arendelle, but I've never been able to admit that I blew it. I messed up. I screwed up my master plan because I got sloppy. I lost it all because I got too cocky. I'm damned to this treatment because I allowed myself to relax. Arendelle was in the palm of my hand, but I was too slow to clench my hand shut to prevent it from being scooped away.

My hand travels against the wall and I flick the light on and I sluggishly wander to the lone armchair before a large window with heavy red curtains that sit shut. I drop myself into the chair and recline my back against the backrest before daring to part the curtain slightly to glance upon my kingdom. There's no sure reason why I'm looking out at the people in the dreary weather, just a pastime I suppose.

As I sit in still silence, I feel my muscles pulsing, rallying together to grab my notice – the effect of a hard days' work. My hand wanders to my throat, fingers lightly massaging the sore muscles. I blow through my nose.

A loud knock sounds at the door, "Hans? Are you in there?"

"Come in, Lars."

Lars, a tall fair and freckled fellow of dark chocolate hair and sky eyes, enters my room. He closes the door behind him, walking slowly towards me. "Something on your mind?"

"Always."

Lars comes to a stop right in front of me and leans against the wall. "Something you wanna share?"

"I don't deserve a confidant."

"Everyone does, Hans. I know you still feel… down – to say the least – about Arendelle."

"Wouldn't you?" my half lidded eyes evade my brother's and stare out at the different types of grey outside, tears threatening to topple out onto my face.

"Are you remorseful?"

I shrug. "Only that I didn't succeed."

"Then you'd be against this punishment," says Lars. "You said yourself that you don't even deserve an ear to hear your woes. You must believe somewhere inside that you deserve what you've got because you did something really messed up."

"Why am I even getting punished for doing what I was taught to do?" I abruptly stand up, my chair wobbling at the force of my stance. "The weak die and the strong prevail. Am I at fault because I wasn't _strong_ enough?"

"That's the only truth Westegaard's live by," admits Lars. "I'm sorry, Hans. You deserve to be punished for the wrong you did, not for doing wrong the wrong way."

I blow Lars off, falling back into my chair. "If you came here to make me feel better, you're out of luck."

Lars opens his mouth to speak, but Agnes – Lars' wife – knocks urgently on the door. "Hans? Lars?"

"Enter, Agnes," I say.

Agnes comes into the room, looking like a bowl of ecstatic emotions. Her golden blonde hair bundled up in an intricate looking braid and spotless skin glowing. Her bright brown eyes gleam over with joy. She shuts the door quickly and hurries to Lars' side, taking hold of his arm to stop herself from bouncing around no doubt.

"You look… more chipper than usual," says Lars, almost confused that Agnes could be any more excitable than she is on a normal Wednesday. "Is something going on? Did something happen?"

Agnes is among the more tolerable people in this house. She's always smiling about something; a childlike energy always radiating off of her. "I overheard something that's going to make _everything_ different!"

"Different like how?" question I.

"Different like, no more manure different," she beams, squeezing Lars' arm. He and I exchange looks, befuddled to say the very least. "No more mockery different. No more unhappy, gloomy…. poor Hans different." Agnes' face falls slightly, growing a tad forlorn. She shakes off the feeling and sprouts a smile again. "You'll be so excited," she looks up at Lars who offers a polite smile. "Won't he, Lars?"

"I'm sure he will," Lars turns so that he's facing his wife, her slender arms in his respective hands. "Sweetheart, you still haven't told us what you overheard."

"Oh! Right, well-"

A rasp at the door interrupts us.

'I'm very popular today,' I muse.

"Prince Hans, your parents have arrived and they want to see you at once," comes the familiar voice of a servant on the other side of the door. "They're in the common area. 'At once,' they said."

I stand briskly, "That's my cue." I nod to both Lars and Agnes before strutting out the door, down the carpeted stairs into the common area. A bright fire warms the room otherwise chilled by the stares of my father and brother Runo.

Mother smiles at me, "Hans, we have good news."

"So I've heard," I have my reservations about the goodness of this news. "What is it?" I sharply shoot a brow.

"We've secured an opportunity for you to redeem yourself," comes Father's grim voice from his seated position on one of the two plush armchairs that circle the fireplace.

"I have my doubts that he's the man for the job," argues Runo. "I'm far more experienced than he is."

"I've made up my mind, Runo," silences Father, looking sternly at Runo who sits in the other armchair. "Casmont needs our assistance in surviving a terrifying storm. Normally we'd just establish a trading partnership with them and work in unison, but according to their meteorologists, the storm will last a maximum of ninety days."

"What kind of storm lasts three months?" I question.

"Those ninety days aren't in succession," tells Mother. "Some days will be better than the others with just rains. The more trying days will be riddled with goliath lightning and winds and hail. It's a devastating thing to imagine."

"I can't risk putting so much into Casmont without knowing they'll be putting in the same effort should the Southern Isles suffer something so severe," starts Father, "so we've nominated you to rule it."

The wind almost leaves me at those words and I take a small step back, shuddering once with shock. "R-rule it how?"

"The king and queen have a young princess who will do nicely for you, Hans. She's quite a scholar, so she'll watch you eagerly for any ill intentions," Father warns. "The courting period will start once you arrive in Casmont… given the rushed circumstances the regular two years of courting is out of the question. The king and queen have given us at most two weeks for you to win over the princess. Desperate as they are they are very stubborn and insist that their daughter be satisfied with you or they'll send you packing."

"There's no competition?"

"Casmont is a small discreet kingdom," says Father. "Where most - if not all – kingdoms see insignificance, I see a cluster of islands rich with opportunity. You need to secure this chance or Casmont will be reduced to nothing but a boneyard. A waste!" my father steeples his fingers. "Are you capable for this task?"

"Consider the throne mine," I nod firmly.

"Good," starts Father, "we leave in three days."

I give a modest half bow, "Then I shall go pack my things."

A/N: Thanks so much for reading, please drop a review and have a beautiful day!


	3. Chapter 2

A/N: Not much jibber jabber from me today, just that I hope to finish this fanfiction before the release of Frozen 2. I don't think I'll be able to write it if it doesn't make sense and fit in with the new knowledge of the Frozen sequel. But otherwise, do read and enjoy!

Disclaimer: I do not own Frozen at all.

Chapter Two

Madolen 

"So... this Hans fellow," starts my closest friend and handmaid, Gala, "he's kind, right?"

I look up from the thick tome I'm studying, "I…don't know actually. His family seems overly nice, so perhaps he has some shred of likability to him." I proceed to whisper under my breath, "He's probably as pretentious as they are."

"What was that?" chirps Gala, her shimmering green eyes smiling at me from her position amongst my large excessive pillows at the headboard of my bed.

I shake my head, brows high, "Nothing. I'm mumbling about this book."

"What's it about?"

My lips twitch into a frown before returning to a neutral state, "How to be a good wife."

Gala scrunches her brows, "Really?" she crawls over to me, in a corner of my bed where my back rests on one of the four posts assigned to each vertex, to get a snippet of my tome.

I snort a loud laugh, almost reeling back and falling off my bed, "Hahaha! _No_ , silly, of course not. I'd rather eat my toes than read something as… demeaning as that," I raise a cheeky brow at my ebony haired friend, her hair kept back in a loose low bun. "I'm almost insulted that you believed me."

Gala rolls her eyes dramatically as she drops herself carelessly on my large comforters and snuggles against the pillows – her playthings. "Do you think he's handsome?"

I smile, dropping my book. "His family is certainly handsome."

"You'd have such beautiful children!" she gasps. "I'm so jealous! How is it that _you_ get to marry when _I'm_ the one with romance on her heart every hour?"

" _I'd_ like romance," I say putting both hands to my heart in insult, "an arranged marriage isn't love."

"…Fair enough," says Gala. "All I'm saying is, don't overlook the good in this opportunity."

"I'm not… I'll be doing a good service to Casmont in marrying Hans," my eyes dart away from my friend. "You'll all be safe and secure."

"Okay, can you _please_ forget about me and the rest of this kingdom for a moment," Gala shoots up from her reclined position. She takes both of my hands and energetically preaches to me. "You're getting _married_ …"

"…It's not that serious…"

"…this is a big thing," she continues on. "Not for Casmont, not for your parents, not for me, for you! You not signing a peace treaty, Mads, you're committing to a man for life." She squeezes my hands, a sisterly smile on her lips, "Let that sink in, okay? Don't just look at Hans as a possible candidate for us, he's gotta work for you too."

"Look, Gala, a match like that just doesn't happen. He can't be a good king and a rescuer and a good husband." I smile oddly, shrugging my shoulders. "Good match or not, I have to marry him or we'll suffer."

Gala sighs and grabs my head in both her hands, "You are so stubborn!" she shakes my head side to side, stirring a giggle out of me. She stops, her grasp still firm on my skull. "I know you tend to be pessimistic…"

"…I'm a realist, Ala…"

"…but indulge in your expectations a little," she urges. Gala sighs through the nose. "He might be awful. But he might be great! Might even be the love of your life, Mads," she smirks at me coyly. "A one percent chance is still a chance, right?"

"A small chance," I look to the ceiling to fight back tears. "A really, _really_ , small chance."

"But a chance is a chance is a chance," Gala releases my head and drops her hands on her lap.

I sniff, tears brimming, "Heh, yeah," I rub the back of my hand.

Gala smiles kindly at me before bringing into a warm affectionate hug, "It could be magic, Mads."

"Or a mess," I tightly clutch at my friend. "I don't like thinking about it. I just torpedo into a pool of worst case scenario. What if he's a monster? All I want is for Casmont to be okay… and I'd still marry him but… would I survive?"

"No, you'll conquer, Mads," Gala pulls back to cup my cheeks. "You don't think you can handle a monster? Should I remind you how many troglodytes you've put to shame in the High Court?"

"Haha," I laugh a genuine laugh, "This is different, Ala. If I don't like him and send him packing we won't make it through the storm. I'll have to put up with him forever."

"Your parents would have to be dead a million years before they let anyone mistreat you, Madolen," says Gala. "And so will I. You say the word and he's out of here and… and we'll find another way to handle the storm, okay? You're a person, not collateral damage. Hey, maybe we won't even need him and his fancy family. Maybe all we need is to restructure the way we work around these next months."

"You're the best friend from the heavens, Gala," I smile, embracing her once more.

"I know, I know," we share a giggle at her words. She tightens her grip around me, "I'll be right here for you, Mads. I adore you."

"I adore you more," I pull back and wipe away my tears. "Look at me, such a wreck. Hans will hotfoot it out of the castle doors if he sees me like this."

Gala leans in and whispers with her hand cupped around my ear and her lips, "I've prepared for such a scenario, don't worry."

I snicker at her. "Seriously, I need to get dressed and wash my face before he gets here."

There's a firm rasp at the door, "Madolen, dear, the Westegaard ship's been spotted on the horizon," chirps my mother before opening the door. She notes my red eyes and nose. "What's the matter?"

"I'm alright, Ma," I laugh lightly. "I was just worrying about something silly."

Mother smiles at me, lips pressed together. "Is that so?" she comes to sit between Gala and I on the edge of the bed. "Are your worries sealed and delivered elsewhere, never to pester you again?"

"I hope so," I smile optimistically. "I know that this marriage is big deal."

"So are you," Mother presses a kiss to my forehead. "I'll kick him out myself if I must."

"Thanks, Ma," I look between my mother and Gala. "You and Gala being around fixes me right up."

"Oh, my dearests" starts Mother, taking both Gala and mine's hands in respective hands of her own. "You can never be broken." She stands proudly and smirks at us both, "Let's go prove that very statement, my diamonds."

Gala and I share a smile and stand proudly in unison, just as my mother did. We link arms and strut out of the room towards the Throne Room with elegant fire.

Hans 

"It's everything I never imagined," I breathe as I hit the harbour of the shimmering kingdom. Everywhere your eyes can venture, the kingdom glows with multi-coloured lights from windows of homes and establishments.

"Good evening, Your Majesty!" greets a beaming man from the surprisingly pristine docks of Casmont.

"Good evening, good man," I smile coming down from the ship. "Your kingdom is something magical."

"That it is!" says the man. "The king and queen have arranged horses for you to witness more of the shining kingdom on your way to the castle." The man looks over my shoulder and notes my luggage being drawn out from the vessel. "Your bags will be delivered to the castle before you should ever need them."

"Why wait around then?" I grin. "Let's ride."

"Right this way," says the large haired man. He leads me to a pair of strong mares. We mount them and head up the hill. As we do, I note little children running around the cobblestone path that carves its way to the crest of the hill, watching me with awe and bewilderment and even admiration. Shopkeepers and stall tenders clap at my crossing, whistling and waving their hats in the air. Heads pop out of colourfully curtained homes to catch a glimpse of me in the golden light of the powerful lanterns that are draped with blooming grape vines that hang heavy with harvest.

I smile with a reserved smile, holding back the elation that bubbles within me at such a reception. "They're… awfully happy to see me."

"We've admittedly talked excessively about you since there was news that you might be marrying Madolen," smiles the dark eyed man. "The name's Jasper," the man extends his hand and I shake it firmly.

"It's very nice to meet you, Jasper," I nod after the words, affirming it to be true. "You and your people honour me."

"You honour us," Jasper grins.

We reach a wide path lined with soldiers on either side of the road garbed in red and gold. They salute us as we strut through until we finally end up at the dark doors of the Casmont Castle. "Thank you, Jasper," I slide off of my horse.

The doors fly open as I step towards them and a lavishly dressed family stands before me.

"To His Majesty King Wiatt, Her Majesty Queen Nancy and Princess Madolen, I introduce Prince Hans of the Southern Isles," comes the booming voice of an announcer somewhere in the room.

"Your Majesties," I bow discreetly, hinging at the hips. "You privilege me with such an opportunity and a welcome."

"Now, there's no need for all of that," says Wiatt. "You're doing us a great service yourself by opening up such a partnership.

The large doors shut behind me and I rise, only now noting the young princess eating me with her large eyes. We lock gazes for a moment before I politely turn back to King Wiatt. "…It's a service I do gladly, Your Highness."

"You've come a long way," starts the Queen. "You must be tired."

"The voyage was long but well worth it," I grin. "I suppose this is the lovely princess Madolen."

Madolen blinks at the mention of her name, smiling after a second to process my words. "It's so good to finally meet you, Prince Hans."

"I hope I didn't make you wait too long," I smirk with the slightest tone of flirtation.

The princess straightens, clearly hiding her flustered reaction from those around her, "You arrived just in time," she smiles.

Wiatt eyes his daughter, a chuffed smile on his lips. "Well, we'll have dinner ready in a moment, Prince Hans," Wiatt starts. "Perhaps you'd like to freshen up and get better acquainted with Madolen before dinner? Maybe she can show you where you'll be staying."

"I'd very much like that."

The king and queen begin to climb the wide stairs a ways behind them and I approach Madolen.

"I hope you had no trouble coming to see us," she smiles up at me, extending a small hand.

"None," I securely take her hand, almost totally encasing it with my own before raising it to my lips to press a kiss to it. "Your people made me quite welcome."

"We've eagerly waited for you," she informs. "Let me… let me show you your room."

"After you."

Madolen starts towards the stairs, throwing a curious glance back at me whilst fiddling with her hair (put into a playful pair of French braids) once or twice as I follow behind her. "I'm not going to lie," she starts as we reach the top of the steps, "I'm wary of you, Prince Hans."

"Just Hans will do, Your Majesty," I tell.

She stops and looks back at me, analysing me thoroughly before continuing down a hall to our right. "Well, in that case, call me Madolen."

"I'll do just that, Madolen."

"Casmont isn't a popular nor large kingdom," she says pressing through the hall, past the red draped walls and the up high, glistening chandeliers and magnificent-looking doors that could only lead to magnificent rooms until she finally stops at one. "Why help us?" she looks back up at me seriously, waiting for a response.

"Is this my room?" I question.

Madolen seems to still want a response but tosses aside the thought before she nods, opening the door and allowing me to step into the room spewing splendour. From the large bed to the spotless, colossal windows, to the scented candles to the thick rugs to the brick fireplace, the room screamed of home. On one of the bedside tables sits a bottle of wine paired with a wineglass and a basket of fruit.

I pluck the bottle and glass from the table and head back to Madolen. I nod to the end of the hall where a mammoth window seat brags a good amount about the view. She understands my hint and heads to the seat. I set the wine and glass down on the seat and arrange the already present velvety cushions comfortably for the pair of us. "Why help anybody?" I start, returning to the question Madolen asked. She has a seat and gazes up at me, surprised that I came back to her inquiry but eager to hear me out. "Wouldn't it be easier to just care about myself?" I pop the cork of the wine bottle and pour the dark mixture in the glass before I hand it to Madolen.

"Wouldn't it?" she echoes, taking the glass with a word of thanks.

I huff through my nose with a smile before I sit on the window frame. "It would. But I don't like doing things the easy way."

"You like the honest way?"

"I like my way," I say. "Sometimes my way is honest, other times it isn't. But it always makes sense to me and it's taken me this far – to this beautiful kingdom in need."

Madolen smiles setting down the now empty glass between us, "What about the way of the people?"

"More?"

"No thank you," Madolen shakes her head.

I pour myself a glass and quirk my eyebrows up quickly in a thinking mannerism, "People change," I take a swig of the rich, pungent wine. "Although I change to accommodate them, I don't become them. I'm always aware of me. Me and my way."

"You don't find that selfish?"

"I do," I say, pouring another glass. "And it is. But who else will watch out for you if not yourself? At the end of it all, everyone is out there loving themselves and sleeping happily. But someone like you," I look out the window a moment, choosing my words carefully. I look back at the pensive princess. "Well, let's just say you don't sleep so easy." I down this glass in a seamless motion wincing a bit at its richness. "You won't last in a world full of people who sleep happily, much less rule them."

Madolen is taken aback. "Quite the opinion you have there, Prince Hans."

"Just Hans, _Your Royal Highness_ ," I drown the last terms of entitlement with emphasis that I want Madolen to be plain with me.

" _Hans_ ," she looks at me clearly and sternly, saying my name slowly with the slow decent of her chin as if to prove that she finally gets the point. "Quite an opinion you have, _Hans_."

"Much better," I smile. "Do you know what it means?"

"Your opinion?" she raises her brows, a hint of annoyance in her demeanour.

"My name: Hans."

"It's a son of the name Johannes," she tells. "But in some places it's recognized as a name in itself, in which case it means: gift from God."

"There you have it," I say, leaning back against the cushions. "Maybe you should take my opinion as a token of advice, a gift if you will. It's not as if I blatantly spat in your face."

"You still have time," Madolen adds.

"You expect me to?"

Madolen looks me over once. "I can't say I'd be surprised if you did."

"Madolen," I lean forward, my elbows on my knees as I pinch my nose once. "You're a young girl. Pensive, probing and beautiful – so beautiful," I whisper those last words and pinch Madolen's chin between my thumb and pointing finger to direct her face to the natural light outside. "But beyond that, what are you? I'd say you need someone who isn't afraid to spit in people's faces or give painful advice where necessary."

"I didn't ask for your help."  
"That's true," I start, "but I'm pretty sure that you think I'm right and you're going to apply what I've said."

Madolen scoffs and rolls her eyes before admitting. "Well… you… you are right and I am going to apply your help. Even if I didn't' ask for it." She looks up at me with agreement in her eyes. "I think we could learn from each other. I could try to teach you about self-sacrifice and you could make me more in touch with myself, if nothing else."

"I don't plan to stop at knowledge," I smirk, picking up the bottle. Madolen bashfully looks away as I pour another glass. "More wine?"

"Mads!" comes a cheery voice. A tall, fair skinned girl comes towards the princess and me. "Dinner is ready," she says, coming to a stop in front of us. "Good evening, Your Highness," she dips into a curtsy, acknowledging me.

"A good evening to you as well," I smile.

"Thanks for telling me, Gala," says Madolen. The pair of girls have a lively conversation between their eyes, obviously about me. Gala shoots a smirk at Madolen who quirks a snarky brow at her before Gala takes her leave. "I think that's our cue," Madolen looks up at me.

I rise and offer Madolen a hand, "Let's take the stage then." she takes my hand and she guides me through the winding halls of the castle to a warm dinner.

A/N: Alrighty folks! Hope you enjoyed reading, lemme know what you think. Take care!


	4. Chapter 3

A/N: Hi guys, not too much to say today, just drop a review if you can. I need to see if this fanfiction truly serves a purpose.

Disclaimer: I don't own Frozen or the Frozen franchise.

Madolen

"What do you think, sweets?"

A warm rush of blood rises to my nose and cheeks, I thank the stars in the sky for my dark skin to hide my embarrassment. "What do I think about what?" I ask coyly, biting into my cucumber and cheese miniature sandwich. My mother and I are outside under the gradually warming sun spending some time away from the incessant strategizing and planning for the upcoming storm.

My mom snorts from the opposite end of the small round table planted outside, amidst all the flora that grows from the Royal Gardens. The Gardens are full of delicate and decorative flowers that grow from plush bushes and strong trees in colours that shame rainbows. "Oh, my dear, you're a terrible fibber," she spits a smug tongue out at me. As structural and strongminded as my mother is, she's the biggest tease and perhaps more childlike than most. "Did you enjoy speaking to him?"

"As much as one is allowed to," I smile.

"What's he like?" Mother sips her cold berry juice.

"Charming, arrogant, clever, quick minded, emotionally undeveloped," I rub my neck. "He's human."

"A human you've taken a shine to?"

"Not yet, Mother," I grin at my prying mom.

Mom raises her brows in thought, a small smile on her lips. "Gala tells me otherwise."

"Gala that gossip!" I laugh. "What's she told you?" I scoot closer to the edge of my seat.

"Only the truth," Mom feigns a swoon raising her voice an octave to mimic mine. "My heart almost leapt out of my chest when Da asked me to show him his room. Weary as I am, Gala, I have a good feeling about Hans."

I hide my face in my hands, shaking my head at the humiliation. "I think he shows promise" I wipe my hands away from my face, "That's not so bad."

"Sweets, I'm elated!" Mom grabs my hands squeezing gently. "It's not easy to find a good man, Madolen. So far so good."

"So far so good," I echo with a small smile, but it falters into a pensive frown. "What if it turns out bad?"

Mom smiles slyly at me, "Have I ever told you about the Hanged Man?"

"Never," I squeeze my mother's hands in reciprocation.

"In a rainless land there was a poor man who worked a steady job cutting, sifting, sorting and selling grain to provide for his family of nine. He was up from 4:00am and worked until 8:30pm under a burning heat that _never_ ceased. All his profits would go the tyrant king and his family would starve for many nights." says Mom. "One day it hit him that he could work until he was 101 years old but his family would still starve and blister so he tried to beat the system. He rallied a group of friends who helped him break into the treasury and steal all that they wished. The plan was to make off with the takings - but they got caught." Mom rubs her thumbs over my knuckles. "He was tried and found guilty. The king gathered the families of all involved to witness the hanging of all who committed the heist, thereafter the families would be separated and sold into slavery." Mom smiles up at me, getting to the depth in the tale. "As he stood with his friends on the stands waiting for his death, drops of rain began to cut through the heat and splatter on his head. The man lulled his roped neck back to savour the only rain he'd ever felt gushing over him and soothing all his burns and a grateful grin grew on his face. Then the floors gave way and he died."

"...I see, Ma…You're telling me to just enjoy the moment," I slowly say, staring at my hands.

Ma leans over the table, lifting my face by the chin so we see eye to eye before she pecks my nose. "Precisely."

I smile appreciatively. "That's not easy for someone who lives in the future."

"I… recognize that, sweets, and I realize your father and I have let you grow so grey," she says, brushing my cheek. "You don't need to be vibrant and flamboyant if that isn't you, Madolen. I know I can't change my brooding daughter into her father. But when you get into these pits of puzzlement, you need to empty your mind and just see things at face value." Mother bops me on my button nose. "And that starts by living in the moment…. _your_ moment." mother sits back in her chair. "Today is a _perfect_ day to do that. In fact, Hans wanted to take you horseback riding by the orchards on the east islands."

"Hans?" I question. Mother nods at me. "Isn't he with Da? Talking about our agriculture?"

"Of course, sweets, but he's here for _you_."

"Ma, I haven't ridden a horse since I was four," I laugh. "What if I fall flat on my face?"

"Then you fall _flat_ on your face," she beams at me, clapping her hands together on the emphasized word 'flat'. "And then it's over. And then you have fun."

"That's… so simple…"

"Most of the answers are," laughs Mother kindly. "People like me who are simple minded live simple lives. People like Madolen with complicated minds live complicated lives."

I snort at my mother with a grin. "Message received, Ma."

"That didn't take long," she teases.

Hans

"There you are," I beam before quickly dusting off my plain, black long sleeve shirt and navy blue pants. "I was starting to think you wouldn't show."

"I'm not nearly so heartless," Madolen smiles back at me.

"You look different in riding trousers and boots," I express, coming to meet the princess halfway eyeing her brown paper bag colour breeches and plain long sleeve white shirt. She stares down at herself before looking back at me with question. "You look a little like a man."

Madolen tilts her head to one side and quirks a brow. "Is that bad?"

I put a hand on Madolen's upper back, leading her out the large main doors of the castle. "No, no, you look beautiful, Madolen. Just strange to see you in manly clothes."

Madolen smirks at me, "Are you jealous because I look nicer in these than you do, Hans?"

I laugh loudly as we step out into the warm light, "You do wear them nicely, so that might be it."

Jasper greets us kindly from his position a few steps ahead with three strong horses. "Good afternoon, your Majesties!" he booms.

"Jasper!" beams Madolen, taking off to embrace him. "Is it just me or are you getting taller?"

"I think you're getting shorter," he teases.

Madolen playfully shoves him. "Are you coming with us?"

"I am," smiles Jasper. "I'll act as your guide."

"Maybe I should call Gala out to come with us," Madolen smirks before her lips purse to one side, pulling her chin to sky and grinning with her eyebrows.

Jasper winces at the thought, "Might be best for this romantic ride to remain _romantic_ , Madolen."

She snorts, "You know you love her. She knows it too. You two should just admit it."

"Am I missing something?" I question, poking into the conversation.

"Right, I'm sorry, Hans, how impolite of me," Madolen throws out a hip that bumps into Jasper, whilst tucking strands of competitively curly hair into her fishtail braid that starts from the middle of her head and ends halfway down her neck. "You've met Jasper, and you've met Gala. They first met on a date that I set them up on which was a _disaster_."

"I'm sure you can embarrass me on the road, Madolen," says Jasper wiping a cinnamon coloured hand that's bombarded by freckles (as is his whole body) over his face. "We must ride while time will have us."

"Don't think I'll forget," Madolen heads over to a grey coloured horse who sniffs her curiously. "Hello there. What's your name?" she presses her own small nose to the horse's velvety shining one.

"His name is Silver," says Jasper. "Hans, would you like to help Madolen up?"

"No offense, Hans," Madolen intercepts kindly, "but I think I can handle mounting a horse."

Jasper and I exchange glances skeptically.

Madolen stands shoulder to shoulder with the horse and I bite back a comment at her first mistake as I quietly move closer to her should the horse get jumpy. She puts one foot in the stirrup with her fingertips just barely clutching the horn of the saddle. 'Don't hobble onto the saddle. Don't hobble, Madolen,' I think internally before she does just that.

Silver whines before he rears back onto his powerful hind legs, tossing Madolen weightlessly backwards into my prepared arms.

"Woah!" she exclaims, and looks around herself, shocked at how quickly she was thrown. My arms are around her as if I'm ready to perform the Heimlich on her and she looks up at me. "Thank you." I smirk back at her.

"Relax there, Silver," shushes Jasper, a hand full of the horse's reigns and another sailing across his neck. "Did the big bad Madolen startle you, boy?"

Madolen uprights herself, "Silver almost took the breath out of my lungs."

"Juvenile horses have a thing for being jumpy," tells Jasper. "But you didn't exactly mount poor Silver here in the best way."

"Alright, fine, I admit I need help," says Madolen. "But don't patronise me."

"I'd never dream of it," I smile. Madolen and I return to the now relaxed horse. "Firstly, you don't wanna stand shoulder to shoulder with a horse. Come here by the saddle." Madolen comes to stand in front of me, staring up at the dark saddle and I put my hands on her waist. She looks back at me, almost jumping out of her skin. "I'm only helping, don't worry."

"…Okay, sure," she starts. "What next?" she glances back at the horse.

"Hand on the horn and foot in the stirrup," instruct I before tightening my grip around Madolen. She puts one foot on the stirrup pad and again just manages to graze the horn of the saddle with her fingertips. I wait a few seconds, watching that the horse is still calm. "I'm gonna hoist you up, okay? On my mark, you jump."

"How high?" Madolen quizzes.

"Just a spring in your step onto the horse," I grin. "One…two…go."

Madolen gives a tiny huff as she jumps and I heave her up before she swings her other leg over the horse to sit safely on the seat. "Much better than the first time, eh, Silver?" she fondly strokes the grey horse before looking down at me. "Thank you again."

"Just don't fall," I smile back at her. I head off to my own horse of burgundy colour. "And who are you?" I mount the strong creature.

"That's River," informs Jasper as he hops onto his own horse. "Follow me. Keep a firm grasp on that one, Madolen."

"I've never been firm a day in my life, Jasper."

"I'll show you, don't worry," I grin and we take off. We march off into the east end of the islands and as we do, the paved ground grows into dark soil. I take in a deep breath through the nose, smelling the earthy smell of dirt mixed with the smell of a rainbow of sweetness from the fruit orchards up ahead. "So, Madolen, why don't you ride?" I question, noting how awkwardly the princess shifts on the back of the horse. "You certainly have the means."

"I'm not… uh… physically apt," she says, eyes focused on steering the horse straight – it defies her, following its own path away from us. "Come on, Silver, gimme a break. Please?"

I guide River towards Madolen and her straying horse. "May I?"

"I'd appreciate it."

I take hold of the reins sternly and speak in a voice to match, "Come now, Silver, onward," I tug at the leather in my hands and the horse gives a disapproving snort before falling into line. "You're such a good boy," I stroke him for his efforts, giving him two pats before looking to Madolen. "Why didn't you work to improve your horse riding seeing as you _could_?"

"I'm more interested in breaking a mental sweat," Madolen answers with a sense of sharpness.

"Do you dance?"

"I've never needed to," she answers. "I know enough to get through a ball though."

"Swim?"

"Our waters are bombarded with sharks."

"Craft?"

"I've never gotten the hang of all the colour clashes," she admits uncomfortably, noticeably growing impatient. "So no."

"Knit?"

"I've been working on a scarf for a few weeks now," says she. "But it's more of an on and off thing."

"Dare I ask about cooking?"

"Why're you so bothered by how good of a horseback rider I am? Or how well I cook or knit or swim or dance?" Madolen lashes, her nose pointing at me. "Am I on trial? Is this some sort of test? I Am I being _graded_?" she urges her horse forward, leaving me behind.

"Madolen, I'm only curious," I call after her.

"Why don't you learn to mind your own business?" she spits back, not even looking over her shoulder. "Or at the very least, _meekly_ ask your questions."

I smile at the state she's in and persuade River to speed up. I pull up beside her, Jasper still a ways away. "You want me to blindly marry you?"

"I _said_ you should buy some _tact_ ," Madolen doesn't look at me, chin in the air, eyes forward.

"I'm sorry," I offer. "I didn't mean any offense. I was interested in you."

Madolen stops her horse immediately and eyes me severely, "Don't turn this on me, _Prince Hans_. You said what you said knowing that you were saying it." She mushes Silver onward.

I frown at her departure, 'Why is she so _difficult_ to persuade? She obviously doesn't need me to validate her, and she obviously doesn't need me to love her. All signs show to me challenging her, and even that seems to be wrong. But it's my best bet so far. She seems to enjoy someone sharp minded, even though it can rub her the wrong way at times.'

"Alright, kids, we're here!" booms Jasper.

I'm pulled out of my thoughts and I see a vast orchard of greens and oranges and reds and blues, all sorts of fruit blossoming from the soldierly rows of trees and bushes with neat, symmetrical paths carved through. "This place just keeps getting better and better," I mumble.

"Impressed, Your Highness?" Jasper smiles at me.

"Hard not to be," I smile back.

"Come, let's go a bit further in, then we can pick till our hearts are happy," says Jasper. "This way."

Jasper leads us onto a path where a bunch of apples hang from their branches, distracting our horses. After we trek a few more moments in silent adoration of the looming trees that encase us, we come to a stop.

"Is this our stop?" asks Madolen.

"This is it," Jasper responds. "Feel free to roam around and eat as you do. Come back here when you're done."

"Thank you, Jasper," Madolen smiles before hopping off of her horse and disappearing into a few trees.

...

I swallow after munching contently on the half apricot in hand, the other half in my mouth. "Mmm," I moan softly at the flavour. I take two consecutive bites that puts the remainder of the orange fruit in my mouth, tossing the large brown seed up and down in the palm of my hand in thought. After I down the sweetness I cock my arm back before sending the pip speeding through the trees in front of me. I pick up a small stone and give another few measuring tosses before repeating the act.

"Ow! What the heck?"

"Madolen?" I turn my head to the voice I heard and push through the trees to the girl. She rubs the temple of her head with her lower lip stuck between her teeth. "I'm sorry, Madolen, I thought I was alone."

"It's fine," she winces, moving her hand away from her head. "I'm fine."

"Where'd I hit you? On your temple?"

"Hans, I'm okay, really," Madolen insists. "It was just a mistake."

"A mistake that injured you," I enforce. "Show me where."

Madolen hesitates but touches the very center of her temple, "Right there."

"Here," I put one of my palms to the temple that's unaffected and press two fingers to the one that is, rubbing in slow, deliberate circles. Madolen flinches at first. Her lips rest on the palm of my moving hand and I feel the edges of her mouth give away a silent cringe, but she releases a soft moan of bliss despite the grimace she wears. After a few cycles, her face softens and the only notice I have of her are her gentle approving whines. She leans her head against my chest. "Maybe I should rub your temples more often."

"Shh," she shushes, clearly not wanting me to spoil the mood.

After a moment, I release Madolen. "You were pretty upset earlier."

"I was just annoyed," Madolen says. "You were only curious about me... you didn't mean any harm."

"Is there something you want to tell me?"

Madolen looks up at me, "Nothing you want to hear." She backs away. "Find anything you like?"

"Yeah," I start, "Strawberries, dates, guavas. I'm headed to the watermelons."

"Watermelons? You like them?"

"Yeah, don't you?"

Madolen shrugs, "I don't know, I'm told I didn't like eating them as a kid."

"How old?"

"Three? Four? Maybe even five."

"Well, in that case, I think you should revisit them," I take Madolen's hand. "Come on."

We bustle through the bushes and trees for a while, following wooden signs for direction until we stumble upon rows of ballooning watermelons. Madolen kneels down in front of a large green melon. "We came here for nothing," she laughs. "We don't have a knife."

"Don't we?" I pull out a dagger, talentedly twirling it between my fingers before I kneel onto the ground beside her. I begin carving the melon in half, then I half those halves before halving the melon a final time. "Princess Madolen," I offer Madolen a slice.

She smiles thankfully at me before cautiously taking a bite. Her face lights up in delight, "This is fantastic!" she remarks with a full mouth, hidden behind a hand. "I don't know what I was thinking as a child."

Madolen

Hans laughs light-heartedly at me. "Careful of the seeds, Madolen," he picks up a hefty slice and chomps down on it. Hans sits on his bottom, legs out in front of him. "Did you dislike knitting and crafting and horseback riding as a child?"

I smile sadly. "I didn't mean to turn out a talentless nobody who wears a crown." I look up at Hans. "Maybe Casmont would've been better off if I died with my biological mother and Ma and Da had a child of their own."

"You serve a purpose, Madolen," starts Hans. "And you serve it well, even without those extra skills most princesses have. I don't question your capability to rule well, even maybe without me at your side. But you weren't modeled and raised like most princesses who learn to do all those extra things. Why?"

"Hettie tells me that I was one _fussy_ child. My parents were so glad to have me, all they wanted was to make sure that I lived a life free of ailment," I shrug, sitting down with crossed legs. "As I got older, little things like living and enjoying life and learning other things became less and less pertinent. Casmont wasn't as strong as it is today, and I wanted so badly to fix it. I threw myself into this kingdom at age nine. Now it's all I could've wished for and all I couldn't have, and on the edge of ruin."

"I won't let that happen," Hans says. "I assure you, Madolen."

"Hmm," I smile thankfully. "Once...once we marry, and the storm stops, maybe I can get back to myself… you know? Maybe I can start developing and nourishing myself."

"Why wait until after all that?"

"It seems like the wiser thing to do."

"You have your whole life to be wise," Hans says. "Being silly once in a while is good for you."

"I guess I'll have to see," I smile.

"…I envy you having such a home."

I stare at Hans seriously. "What's it like there? The Southern Isles?"

"Cold, bleak, dreary," Hans smiles despite his tone. "It's a place I'm from, but it's no home to me."

"Don't you find comfort in your family?"

Hans shakes his head before biting into his slice of melon as if to seem casual about this soft topic . "My twelve brothers aren't the nicest of men… except my brother Lars. He's the only shred of normalcy amongst the Westegaard kin. He and his wife, Agnes."

"What of your mother?"

"I think time's done its job to her," he says. "She's watered down… a lot."

"…I can't imagine," I put a hand on Hans' kneecap, squeezing gently. "I'm sorry, Hans."

Hans looks back at me meaningfully, for a moment, truly collapsing any walls he has within him.

Just then, a drop of water lands on my nose, causing us to both look up at the grey sky. Before we blink twice, a determined rain drops heavily down on us and Hans stands up, helping me to my feet. "Come on, let's go find some shelter."

"Okay," I pinch my eyes shut from the rain, almost totally relying on Hans to steer me out of the showers. We clomp about in the now muddy soil until we reach some banana trees.

Hans pulls me into a protective hold under the large leaves of the banana trees. "Well, so much for a storm from the depths," he says, commenting on how mild the drastic storm seems.

"This isn't the storm, Hans," I snicker. "The storm is predicted to begin with violent winds and ominous thundre. We should be fine in a few minutes."

"Guess we'll just have to wait for it to calm."

"…Why sit around waiting for the future to get here before we have fun?" I mumble, pulling away from Hans' grasp. I start back out into the downpour.

"Madolen, what're you doing?"

"I'm being silly… I'm being simple… I'm living in the moment, _my_ moment," I muse, still venturing further before coming to a stop and looking up at the sky.

"What if you get sick out there?"

I laugh at the words I speak next, shrugging once, "Then I get _sick_ and then it's over. And then I have fun." I stretch my arms out beside me before spinning around once or twice. When I stop, I see Hans beside me.

"Why don't you show me your ballroom dance skills?" he asks, his voice deeper than usual.

I dip into a curtsy. "I shall." Hans puts a strong hand on my waist, and encases one of my own hands with his other one. We start to move, a silent battle for rights to pilot the dance ensuing between us.

"Madolen, _I_ lead," he corrects, pulling me to a stop. He chiefs the dance, starting from the beginning. "One, two, three. One, two, three. Just like that."

"I'm sorry, I guess I'm more out of it than I thought," I smile, now falling into step with Hans. His magical eyes remain on me for the duration of our dance, looking almost lost at me. He holds me confidently before dropping me into a dip that I fall into quite well, given the fact that he didn't tell me that he was planning to do this. I relax my features against the gentle rain, droplets falling onto my pallet and eyes with the weightless of air. I do my best to ignore the staring prince and focus on how I feel in the moment. Hans slowly draws me up. "Doesn't the rain feel great?" I smile, looking up at him.

"Madolen, it rains almost everywhere in the world," Hans starts, eyes intensely on me. "I'm not here for the rain."

My breath catches in my throat. Hans grabs my chin between his thumb and index finger, drawing me near and leaning in towards me. I try to shut my eyes, but my eyelids flutter and tense as I feel him close the distance between us. He gently kisses me for what feels like hours, and I lose myself in the thumping of my heart as his hand releases my chin and knits into my hair, deepening the kiss. Then sense returns to me. I push Hans away, looking down.

"I can't let myself get too excited about this," I say, shaking my head. "I've only known you three days. You've only been here three days."

"We don't have all the time in the world, Madolen."

"I know that, but I need to think about this some more – to be sure," I say. "I need to know that I'm making the right choice. That you can not only help Casmont but be a husband I _love_ … that I can _trust_ you."

"You _can_ trust me," Hans answers, pulling me closer to him with his hand that remained on my waist.

"...H-how? How can I be sure? How do I know?"

"You don't know for sure, Madolen and you'll never know for sure," Hans says, a hand cupping my cheek. "That's why it's called trust - it's faith, belief." Hans' thumb strokes my cheek. "I'm only helping, don't worry."

I gaze into his eyes, probing for direction. I jump into Hans' arms, pressing my lips to his in a grinning kiss and he hoists me up to flatten me closer to him. "I want help," I say, arms around his neck. "I want to be happy - truly happy- with you."

"I'll make you happy, Madolen," Hans says lowly between kisses. "I'll help you."

A/N: So that's chapter three guys. I'm trying to invest in this so please tell me if you want more! Take care.


	5. Chapter 4

A/N: So not a lot from me today, just ye olde disclaimer.

Disclaimer: I do not own Frozen or the Frozen franchise.

Hans

"Hi, Madolen," I quietly step into the princess' dim, vast room where she wakes from another episode of naps. She groans about her lush comforters as she twists her body around in a series of stretches. I set down a tray of tea on her bedside table. "I know you're likely sick of it, but I thought you might need some more tea." I head to the windows and draw open the heavy yellow curtains in her room, blasting the area with light from the high up sun.

"Hans," she smiles at me softly, eyes shielded behind her eyelids from the afternoon sun. Her voice is hallow and rings with nasal effects. It's not difficult to see that she's sick from our rain dancing a few days ago. "I haven't seen you in days." She throws her arms over her head and clasps her fingers together, stretching as far as she can before relaxing her arms where they lay.

"I know," I sit on the edge of the bed and scoot closer to her small frame. "I'm sorry. I've been quite busy. Your parents and I have managed to put that rain three days ago to good use."

"Not even crowned yet but you're already doing so much for Casmont," Madolen beams, her chest rising with a large breath. Her legs shift under the covers and she taps my lower back with her feet. Physical touch is obviously one of the ways in which she expresses her love. "We're indebted to you, Hans."

"Don't mention it," I pull my arm back to gently squeeze her foot that's on my back. "I've missed you." I use my free arm to stroke her forehead. "Madolen, you're on fire. You've got the hottest fever."

"Yes, and you might catch it too," she removes my hand that sits on her forehead and puts it back in my lap. "You should probably go."

"Don't worry," I start, rubbing my hand over her knuckles, "I have an immunity to this kind of thing."

"You do _not_ ," Madolen grins at me.

"Oh I do," I nod. "Growing up in a castle of twenty-seven plus people, we're all sharing germs and getting sick. I've been sick enough times to be practically unscathed."

"Well, maybe your immunity will pass onto our kids," Madolen wears a weary smile on her face, but as soon as those words leave her, she turns embarrassed. "That was a bit much, wasn't it? I'm sorry-"

"Don't be. I want children, and… I'm glad you brought it up," I look down at Madolen's hand for a moment, pressing my thumb harder to her knuckles before meeting her gaze. "I grew up with a large family. I'd like any kids we have to be surrounded by siblings."

Madolen nervously simpers, eyes full of question. "Does a certain number come to mind?"

"Perhaps I should hear from you first," I offer.

Madolen clears her throat, "Uh, well, I've never really thought about marriage, much less kids," she runs a free hand past her forehead. "But I think at most I'd stretch to four kids."

"Well, Madolen," I begin, "that's a third of what I want."

"I… thought as much," Madolen gives a let-down smile. "Hans, I don't know if I can do what you're asking me to do."

"Madolen, it's not a stretch from the average woman today," I tell. "The least amount of kids per house I've noted is six to eight."

"Six to eight?" repeats Madolen. "Hans, that's a big responsibility – lives that we're liable for."

"Anything an average person can do, we can do one hundred times better," I assure.

"…What would we even do with twelve kids?" Madolen frowns. "Hans, this is serious. We're going to be so busy and not just with the kids. What if we overestimate our abilities and a few kids get neglected and lost in such a number?"

I break away from Madolen's gaze, sighing audibly through my nose. I give Madolen's hand a final squeeze before reaching for the tray I brought in earlier. "Your tea's chilling."

"…Hans, I'm sorry," Madolen sits up and touches my arm. "I didn't mean to upset you by saying that. I take it back."

"It's alright, Madolen," I say, eager to curb the topic. "But you should drink this to ease your symptoms."

Madolen eyes me worriedly before sitting back against her pillows to have her tea. I set the tray over her lap and pour the yellow liquid into a cup. "Surely there's some compromise, Hans," Madolen rubs her arm. "I don't want you to be unhappy because of this."

"Let's wait until our first baby," I say. "We'll have a better idea of what we both want then."

"Yeah. That's a good idea." Madolen extends an encouraging smile. "How was your day? Busy?"

"Very busy," I start. "Busy as it was, there's something I have for you."

Madolen looks around, scanning me for anything strange. "What is it?"

"Finish your tea and I'll show you," I smile.

"I bet I'll guess what it is before then," she jeers, sticking out a tongue.

"Time's ticking for your claim, Madolen," I grin.

…

Madolen 

"Is it an activity?"

I trust Hans to guide me along the castle corridors, blind as his large hands cup my eyes like a blindfold. "Of sorts." Hans' voice rumbles through his chest against my back as he speaks. "Keep your eyes shut," he says, removing one hand from my eyes to open a door. We step out into a warm light, the sound of nature prominent in my ears. I hesitate against the change of environment. "Onwards, Madolen."

"Okay, slowly," I reach my arms out in front of me.

Hans presses forward, his body pushing me ahead, "We'll never get anywhere going slow." A tone of jest is strong in his voice.

"Chocolate, you're finally here," comes the familiar voice of my father.

"Da? You're in on this too?"

"I'm always centre stage when trouble's brewing," Dad chuckles.

"Alright, Madolen, you can look," Hans peels his hands away from my face and rests them on my wide shoulders.

We're in an empty area of the Gardens, where grass rolls along the expanse in a trimmed manor. Overhead, the branches of a lone elderly tree stretch meters high, growing out of every side of the tree, its roots stationed in the middle of the area. Dad stands in front of the tree before me thick bundled rope in hand.

"What's all this?" I cock a brow at my dad. He surrenders no answer. "Hmm," I crane my neck back and glance at Hans for a clue.

"We're setting up a hammock," Hans responds, a gentle squeeze on my shoulders. "We thought we might as well take advantage of all the sunshine before the storm steals it away." Hans squeezes my shoulders once more before heading off to Da to help him hang up the hammock.

"Well, how do I help?" I edge closer to the pair.

"We need you to tell us if the hammock is suspended in a level line," says Da. He gathers the knotted and weaved rope together and hands one end to Hans. "Take this to the opposite branch." Hans does as told and holds up the knotted rope where it might go once hung.

"Is this good, Madolen?"

I pinch my eyes and nip my lip, trying to accurately judge the structure of the hammock. "Da, I think you're an inch or two higher than Hans."

"Which is it? An inch or two?" questions Dad.

"Better make it two," I say. "Yeah, two is accurate. What now? Hammer and nails?"

"That's right, Mads," starts Da. "Put three or four nails in into the bark between the gaps in the net."

I head up to the end of the tree where Da is and find a hammer and a bunch of nails on the ground. "So which is it, Da?" I grin slyly at my father, "Three nails or four?" I begin hammering a nail into the bark of the branch.

Father sticks out his tongue at me. "Better make it five. You _are_ getting heavier each day with that big brain of yours."

"Oh, Da, you're such a child," I laugh. "But then again, I guess we're all children inside."

"Not me," states Da. "I'm child inside and out. A terrible trait for a king."

"That's why you have Ma as a queen," I finish hammering the final nail.

"No, sweets, that's why she has me as a king," Da winks at me, dusting off his hands. "Speaking of sweets, why don't I get us something cold and sweet to drink?"

"Yeah, that'd be nice," I smile.

"Well, get to work then, Mads," Da nods to Hans. "Earn your keep." With that, he strides into the castle and I make my way over to Hans.

"First trousers now a hammer and nails," starts Hans as I approach. "I hope you don't sprout facial hair." He teases.

"No need," I place the nail against the wood and look up at Hans. "You've enough whiskers for the both of us." As I hammer the nail I miss the mark and whack Hans' thumb instead.

"Ah!" he winces, he doesn't move, however.

"I'm sorry!"

"Mmhhmm," Hans nods. "Ahh." He draws out a long sigh.

I wait a moment before I proceed hammering. "I'm almost done." I deliver the final blow to the final hammer and Hans examines his wound. "Lemme see."

"Oh, I'm fine," Hans says.

"Come now, Hans, let me see what damage I've done," I insist. "I promise I won't do any more."

Hans extends his hand out to me, his thumb red. I cautiously take it in hand and blow cool air over it. "No, all you do is make things better." He says lowly, eyeing me penetratingly.

I put a kiss on Hans' thumb and smile warily at him. "You… you think so?"

"Why else would I say it?"

"Maybe you're a liar," I shrug.

"It's more likely that you're a good girl, Madolen. Woman, I mean."

"Thank you, Hans," I give a smile with pressed lips, meeting Hans' eyes. We lock eyes for a long while before I clear my throat. "Here, um, here's your thumb." I push Hans' hand against his chest.

"Look at that," Hans flexes his hand, "good as new."

"Did I ever tell you kids the tale of my great grandad's wrist?" comes my dad's energetic voice from the castle. He strides into the garden with a picture of lemonade and glasses.

"Oh, Da, not this again," despite my moans, a smile lingers on my face.

…

Hans

"There he was, arm restrained to a post, gaged and bombarded by the smell of liquid fear in the small confines of the slaves quarters down below the ship. One by one, the noblemen and royalty of small kingdoms were fished up from their spots to be slaughtered. Great grandad Rafael struggled against the impenetrable chains, hacking at them with his dagger but they wouldn't budge. He knew what he had to do. Great grandad Rafael laid in wait for a scurvy squirrel to come collect him, a clever plan crafted by a foxy man in mind," King Wiatt goes about retelling the tail of his great grandad with great skill before us. Madolen and I sit on the newly set up hammock while he flashily continues into the peach evening sky. "'King Rafael! Get yer arse above, ye fresh watered, toe sucking land lubber'," King Wiatt squints an eye, as he mimics the pirate's voice. "'It be yer turn to meet yer maker'." Wiatt slices an arm through the air, eyes now wide open. "'Come over here and _make_ me! I am born of Casmont, a place of purpose, unlike you! An old tattered goat with nothing but the grave for him!' Rebuked the rebellious king of Casmont, only twenty at the time. The pirate didn't take a liking to the attitude great grandad Rafael was offering, so he unsheathed his cutlass with threat." Wiatt pinches his one eye shut again, 'unsheathing a cutlass'. "'If ya speak to me with a tongue like that again, I'll slice it clean outta yer mouth!'" Wiatt changes his voice again. "Great grandad Rafael had the one winged filthy fly right where he wanted him!"

I glance over at Madolen who watches her dad in a manner of both admiration and a tinge of denial that he's telling such an age old tale again. A smile forces its way on her face, despite all of that.

"Madolen, say it with me! You know the words!" caws King Wiatt, a toddler like enthusiasm glowing about him.

"Don't dare tamper with my tongue, plagued pestilence, lest you disease me with all manners of death!" Madolen and King Wiatt tell together. "This tongue and the rest of me stand and boast of Casmont – land of purpose!"

King Wiatt swings his arm down, miming a devastating blow. "With a mighty swipe of the pirate's sword, King Rafael dives his body out of the way, allowing the cutlass to chop his hand clean off – right at the wrist. With tears in his eyes, King Rafael raised his boot to the pirate's ugly filth born face and yanked the cutlass from his hand. He sliced right across the mindless mule's throat and fought his way out of bondage with one hand – his _weakest_ hand. He lead the army of slaves to a revolution that won them their liberty and they threw the pirates overboard. The horde of refugees were offered a place in Casmont and a great celebration was held in gratitude of Rafael's life."

"This is just one way in which my dad explains the love that the people of Casmont have for their royals," Madolen whispers in my ear.

"And that, Hans Westegaard, is just one tale to express how greatly the people of Casmont adore their royals," says Wiatt, seemingly unaware that his daughter already spilled the beans. "And we mustn't let their love and loyalty be misplaced. That isn't to say that we shouldn't ever err, all they ask of us is that we do our best always." Wiatt is overcome with a mixture of emotions that seem to flush in from nowhere.

"Oh, Da," Madolen rises to pull her father into a warm and caring hold. "I know how much this all means to you." She leans her head against his chest as she tightens her hold on him. "I'll do all I can for Casmont."

"I never doubted that you would, chocolate," King Wiatt wraps parental arms around his daughter. "You'll exceed your own expectations, Madolen." He pulls Madolen almost arms-length away to look into her eyes. "It's not an easy task to rule a kingdom. Sometimes you'll have to make hard choices, that'll disappoint more people that it'll satisfy. But that doesn't mean it was the wrong choice. It may sound like a paradox, Mads, to consider that people yet also decide against them. But do what you think is right and you're sure to succeed. This kingdom will love you no matter what."

"I don't plan on failing, Da," Madolen smiles. "Don't worry."

King Wiatt beams at his daughter before clearing his throat. "Ahem, well, I think I should take my leave," he says, giving Madolen a final squeeze. "Goodnight, Prince Hans," he addresses me politely, I acknowledge him with a smile and a nod before he turns back to his daughter. "Goodnight, chocolate." He presses a kiss to her forehead before heading back into the castle.

Madolen smiles after him for a moment before she slowly makes her way back over to me. She sits down next to me.

"He really loves you," I put an arm around Madolen's shoulders.

"I really love him more," she smiles whimsically, staring at the door where she last saw her father, before looking up at me. "I think he's starting to love you too."

"I wouldn't know," I shift my weight on the wide hammock so that I'm lying down on my back. I tuck my hands behind my head in an effort to relax.

Madolen comes to join beside me, lying on her side eyes beaming at me. "It'd be sort of… poetic justice if we marry. You'd get a family, though not large, full of love to give. You'd… you'd get a happily ever after."

I silently mull over Madolen's words, my gaze transfixed on the pioneering stars of the mango coloured night. "Hmm," I consider. "…And what of your happily ever after?"

Madolen looks down at her hands that sit sandwiched between the side of my ribcage and her chest. "Casmont will survive and I'll have a husband like you. I'm not at all quick to trust, and although I have some reservations, I realize that you're only a man. You're only human. And as far as humans go, you're not so bad." She looks back up at me with a grin though modest, earnest.

I return her gaze, confused at the amount of identification I find in this young lady. Madolen's beam fades into a softer look, a thoughtful search of me before she quickly draws her face into her shoulder in a fit of coughs. I sit up and pull off one of my favoured jackets, "Here, Madolen. Keep warm," I wrap the white jacket around her. "This is considered a mild day in the Southern Isles."

"Really? It's so cold," Madolen marvels, eyes wide.

"Feel this," I take Madolen's hand and place it on my forehead.

"You're sweating," she cogitates. "You aren't kidding." I shake my head before guiding Madolen back down onto the hammock. "Can you teach me how to say something in your mother tongue?"

I give Madolen a surprised look. "I can. Something simple."

"Yeah, I can handle it," she snickers. "How do I say 'hello'?"

"Hej," I reply.

"How do I say 'what's your name'?" Madolen sits up, crossing her legs.

"Hvad hedder du."

"Hej, hvad hedder du?" Madolen repeats.

"Jeg hedder Hans," I tell.

"Jeg hedder Madolen," Madolen catches on quickly.

"You're a fast learner," I grin.

"It's easy when I enjoy what I'm doing," Madolen smiles. "You have to teach me some more."

"It'd be a waste," I start. "You'd only have me and my family to speak to."

"Well, speaking to a household full of so many brothers and their wives and kids – twenty-seven plus people you said. Doesn't seem like a waste to me." Madolen smirks down at me and I return the gesture.

Just then, Gala comes into the Gardens. "Evening your Majesties. Dinner's ready." She smiles.

"Ah, supper, my favourite time of day," Madolen beams. "Wait for us, Gala." Madolen throws a leg over me, foot dangling above the grass in an effort to find it. She plants an arm on the end of the hammock where her foot still seeks the ground, now hovering above me on all fours – save for her one leg.

"Careful, Madolen, you might tip us," I warn, placing my hands like brackets around Madolen's arms in preparation for the likely outcome.

"It's okay, I've got this," she laughs. "Just… a little… farther. Ah!" Madolen's weight falls heavy on one the descending side of her and the hammock turns over, spitting us right out. I shift so that my arm hits the ground before Madolen does, causing me to land on the cool grass on my side, with my free arm holding Madolen to me. Madolen looks around herself, surprised that she didn't land on the floor. "You caught me."

I smirk at Madolen. "You weren't joking about not being physically apt."

"Heh, yeah. Sorry, I'm… I didn't mean to drop us," Madolen stammers. "I should've listened."

"Relax, Madolen. It didn't turn out all bad," I give a good natured chuckle.

Madolen only now seems to register that her arms snaked themselves around me.

"Ahem, your Majesties," Gala's voice rings. "Dinner?"

"Gala!" Madolen peels herself away from me, straightening herself up as she stands. She offers me a hand. "How long have you been standing there?"

I stand and put an arm to Madolen's upper back, guiding her towards the castle.

"You said to wait for you, wait for you I did," Gala smiles cheekily at her friend. As we pass by Gala she throws a wordy glance at Madolen.

"Shush! Shush!" Madolen bashfully says, thoroughly embarrassed. The sound of Gala's snorts of laughter follow us down the hall to supper.

Alrighty. Sorry I'm late. It'll probably happen more. I know the grander scheme of the fanfic, not really the details, so that's what's delaying me. But fret not, I shall device a plan. Until next you read, take care!


	6. Chapter 5

A/N: Hey, guys. A quick update from me this time. I don't even remember when I wrote this. I know it happened eleven hours ago but it honestly doesn't register. Anyways, it's gotten to that place where the ball starts rolling with this fanfiction, so I need to know that I have an audience to write for. Well, here's the chapter, enjoy!

Disclaimer: I do not own Frozen or the Frozen franchise.

Madolen

"Oh thank goodness you're here!" I steal Gala into my room and swing the door shut - silently albeit speedily. I press my back to the door, nerves buzzing.

"What is it, Madolen?" Gala fixes up her now dishevelled hair. "What happened?"

"It's a day to the last day, Gala!" I whisper, in denial of how quickly time has flown. "And… I found this note from Hans a while ago." I come up to my friend and hand her the parchment. "He says that he wants to see me in an hour. He wants to show me something."

"An hour? But it's still dark out?" asks Gala, wide eyed. "When did you get this?"

"An hour ago."

"Oh my heavens, Mads, he wants to propose!" Gala squeals, jumping up and down twice.

"I know, I _know_ ," I attempt to calm my breathing. "I know. I'm just… overwhelmed. I can't believe it's time to decide already."

"No, it's not. Not yet," says Gala, steering me by the shoulders to my vanity table. "Have a seat, Madolen. You can't go see somebody who might propose to you looking like that." Gala goes about doing my hair. "Pick out the yellow flowers - and only the yellow ones - from that vase." Gala gestures to the vase full of blossomed fresh flowers next to my mirror on my vanity table.

"Gala, I think my everything is sweating," I say, plucking the heads off of the yellow coreopsis, black eyed susans, and daffodils.

"That's a good sign," says Gala, weaving the yellow blossoms into the braded crown she's in the middle of. "If you hated him, you'd be calm and collected and reciting words of rejection."

I laugh nervously but appreciatively. "You're right. I'm just… scared."

"It'll be over soon, don't worry," giggles Gala.

"I know it will. But what if it isn't what I expect?" I glance at my friend through the mirror, eyes flushed with concern. "I didn't have any high hopes for Hans before he got here. But now… now everything's different. Now my heart wants him to propose. Now my heart wants to say yes. Now… my heart is _terrified_ he's only asking for me to let me go." Gala slows as she listens to my outpour, finishing the braid. "These two weeks were for Hans to impress me. To prove that I should marry him." I wring my hands for a moment, eyes glued to them before I look back into Gala's leaf green eyes. I stop my fidgeting as Gala puts her soft hands on my shoulders. "What reason or proof have I given him to have _any_ interest in _me_?"

"Where is this coming from?"

I shake my head. "I can't _do_ any of the things that normal princesses do. I don't know how to ride, or sew, or play the organ, or cook or craft or _anything_. All I'm good for is being a brood who reads more books than I know to do with."

"Oh, Madolen, that's such nonsense," Gala rubs my shoulders. "You're full of sense _except_ when you must apply it to yourself. When will knowing how to do _any_ of that benefit to kingdom? Will we need you to play the organ to save a life, or will we need you to advise us based on the books you've read so much? Will we need you to sew to solve a conflict, or will we need you to decide and rule based on the wisdom you've got harboured within you from a place no one knows? I don't think we'll need you to craft us a book of memories when the plants drown in a few weeks' time."

I smile at Gala through the mirror. "Why do you always know just what to say?"

"You don't make it easy sometimes," Gala laughs. "Madolen, you _always_ ask hard questions."

"I can't let them sit there inside of me for too long," I laugh. "That never ends well."

"It doesn't," Gala says. "But tonight will. I'm sure of it." She backs away and I stand up to hug her warmly. "You've got nothing to worry about, alright." We part and she smiles a sisterly smile. "Have fun, okay?"

"I shall," I smile back.

…

"You called for me?" I step out onto the cobblestone path under the star cluttered sky.

"I did," Hans takes my hand in his. "I have something… a little crazy to show you."

I look back at the castle a moment before giving Hans a questioning look. "Would my parents approve?"

He gives a huff of a laugh, "Don't worry. They're well aware you're with me tonight. Jasper's going to be at the sight with us." Hans leads me down the path faintly illuminated by the golden fire from the lampposts.

"Where exactly are we going?" I step closer to Hans, slightly unfamiliar with the path.

"The shores. There's something unusual happening there tonight."

"It's so glamourous out here at night," I start, plucking a grape from the vines. "I owe it to the people of Casmont to be out here more. Not under the coat of night, but in the sun. Smelling the bread and watching the potter at work and chatting with the florists."

"It's been a busy two weeks for me, Madolen," Hans says. "I'm sure it's been a busy seventeen years for you. It's not easy to manage a small, private kingdom."

"It's not," I smile. "I'm proud of them – the people of Casmont. They're truly what makes all the effort worth it."

We reach the docks and find a rowboat bedazzled with an arrangement of bright smiling sunflowers. Inside the boat is two sacks full to the brim with nuts and plush red cushions and ripe red apples and apricots. "This way, Madolen," Hans steps into the boat and offers me a hand. "Come with me."

I hurriedly take Hans' hand, before my mind can talk me against it. "Okay, let's go." I reach for the oars in the boat.

"Relax, Madolen," Hans intercepts, taking the oars before I can. "I'll handle it." Hans leans back and begins rowing, taking us out into the sea, away from the waves.

"Why'd you want to do this so late at night?"

"This happens to be the best time to do it," Hans says. "You'll see why."

I grin at Hans, leaning my elbows on my knees and pluck an apple from a sack besides me. "So," I bite into the apple, "Hans. You haven't really told me much about you. I've had to gather all I know by myself and my intuition."

"What do you know?"

"That you're twenty-five and the last born from your family," I say. "That's what you've told me. What I've gathered is that you're very good with words and getting people to do what you want them to."

"What makes you say that?" Hans cocks a brow at me with a toothy grin.

"I don't have any solid proof, just a gut feeling."

"Could I get a bite of that?"

I reach my arm out and Hans leans forward for a munch of my apple, stealing away more than half in one motion.

"Hey!" I laugh at the monstrous bite Hans took from my fruit. "You said a bite." I quickly eat away at my apple before he asks for another 'bite'.

"I _did_ take a bite, Madolen," Hans chuckles with a full mouth. He swallows. "A big bite doesn't make it any more or less of a bite."

I purse my lips to one side in an effort to fight a smile, but my gleeful eyes sell me out on my lie. "What are these bits of bread for?" I nod to a basket full of broken up bread.

"For my gut feeling," Hans stops rowing as we approach the shores.

"You get those too"

"All the time," Hans says, taking the now naked apple in my hand. He starts eating the core.

"Like when?" I quiz, almost surprised that someone else shared the same sort of foresight I have.

Hans

"Like now for example," I lick my fingers, getting rid of any evidence that an apple was ever here. I pick up the basket of bread bits and sprinkle them into the salty water. "Come see."

Madolen comes over to my side to see a school of fish bob up for the bits of bread. As they stir the water, it glows a luminescent blue. "Whoa…" marvels she at the glittering of the water, dark eyes alight with wonder. She squeezes her eyes and nose in an almost snarl of curiosity as she leans her face closer to the water for further examination. A bright orange fish rushes up to the surface and kisses her smack on the lips, causing her to jump back. I snatch the fish.

"Ha!" it wriggles, ballistic, in my clutches. "Gotcha. These little guys stir up the plankton."

"The plankton glow as a defence mechanism to attract bigger predators," Madolen says, coming to study the fish in my hands. "But none are coming."

"The sharks haven't been around a while," I tell. "But that's not the only weird thing that I suspect will take place." I hand Madolen the flipping fish and she smiles sweetly at it before putting it back in the ocean. "Here, Madolen. Look." I guide Madolen's sight to the skies that tinge with reds, not solely from the rising sun. A gathering of scarlet Cockatiels fly overhead. "Pass me an apple." Madolen passes me the red fruit and I stand. For a while, the birds seem disinterested, but a brave, blushing cockatiel swoops down and lands on my bare forearm. It pecks at the juicy fruit in my hand. "Come here, Mads." Madolen nears me a look of awe plastered on her face.

"Cockatiels," she mumbles, entranced by the bird.

"Cockatiels!" screeches the blue bird.

Madolen and I laugh together at the zest of the feathered creature. A new cockatiel perches on Madolen's shoulder, then another, and another, followed by many more.

"Do you want some grub? Yes, you do," Madolen sits down and reaches for the seeds. She offers it to them in the palm of her hand. The army of birds peck contently from her palm. The seeds that fall to the ground are soon swept up by others of the birds. "I haven't seen them so close up." Madolen smiles. "They don't really come around these parts."

"Neither do flamingos."

Madolen searches the sky and finds a flock of flushed flamingos soaring our way. "Neither do flamingos," she repeats, dumbstruck.

The cockatiels seem to notice the pink birds now and they set sail into the sea of sky, fleeing. All but one. The very first cheeky cockatiel hobbles over to Madolen's now empty shoulders.

"I think he's taken a shine to you," I say, taking a seat again.

"I'm not complaining," Madolen nuzzles against the bird. "No, I'm not, boy."

The flamingos come to a stop in the shallow water, some on the shore. "I wonder why all this is happening. Why would flamingos come _here_ only to stop in the ocean?"

"It's the storm," Madolen says. "Call it an educated guess, or spit ball, but I think the change in weather is messing with their systems. A storm this big that lasts this long must've been festering, coming with the winds from around the world only to park right on top of Casmont. It's no wonder they're all so confused." Madolen strokes her newfound companion.

"That would explain the flamingos doing that."

Madolen turns her attention to the parading birds. They're gathered in a group, strutting flavourfully across the small waves. "They're looking for mates." Madolen tells, coming to the edge of the boat to watch them, hands on the edge of our vessel. "The males pageant around in a dance to impress the females." She smiles at the jive the flamingos partake in.

"You're quite learned about a lot," I say.

"Yeah," Madolen says bashfully. "Honestly, I don't like learning about so much. Surprise, surprise," she pulls a smile. "I only do it so that I know all I can to help Casmont when a time of need arises. If there was one book on how to rule well, I'd read that and be satisfied."

I grin at Madolen. "This is a time of need."

She looks at me quizzically. "What do you need?"

"Are there any oysters in these beaches?"

"I… yes, there are," says Madolen. "You aren't planning on diving for some?"

I stand, kick off my shoes and pull my short sleeve shirt over my head at once. "How else will you remember this day?"

"Hans, wait-"

Madolen

Before I can finish my sentence, Hans dives into the blue, in search of oysters. I exchange a glance with my birdy friend before leaning over the boat in an effort to locate Hans. My feathered companion releases a long low whistle, seeming to understand that Hans has been gone for quite a while. 

"It's alright," I rub the bird's Mohawk in an effort to console both him and me. "He'll be back… He said the sharks weren't around."

Hans breaks the surface beside me, pinching his nose once or twice before looking excitedly at me with his green eyes. "Here, Madolen," he throws his arms over the side of the boat and pulls a knife from his belt. "Let's see if we're lucky." Hans pries his blade into the oyster's mouth, wiggling to snap it open. Its mouth yawns open and low and behold, a flamingo pink pearl sits in the cushion of its mouth. "Viola." Hans offers me the beauty.

"It's gorgeous," I say, cupping the oyster in both palms.

"Lemme see if I can't find another," Hans says before delving back into the ocean.

My cockatiel friend tries to peck at Hans' find. "Non! Non! Don't eat it, darling." It gives me what seems like an apologetic look. "Say 'I'm sorry'".

"Say I'm sorry," says he.

I giggle. "You're forgiven."

"You're forgiven."

"I'm going to call you Fabrice, yeah?" I say. "You are quite crafty, aren't you? You are, my Fabrice."

"Fabrice, Fabrice!"

I smile adoringly at the gorgeous yellow thing. I set down the oyster in one of the sacks to rub my fingers against Fabrice. Then, Hans pops up and puts his arms over the edge of the boat again. "Mads, I didn't find any oysters this time."

I come to Hans' side. "That's alright," I start. "Please come back into the boat. I don't want you to get caught by a shark."

"In a minute," Hans says. "I _did_ find this." Hans unbuttons a pocket on his pants to pull out a shimmering gold ring, starring a rose quartz. "And I did find you. I think it's meant to be yours, if you're meant to be mine." Hans looks at me seriously, hopefully, until a small smile spreads on his faintly freckled face. "What do you say?"

"You… you want me to be _yours_?" I question.

Hans nods at me. "I do."

"And you _want_ to be _mine_?"

Hans' smile spreads further. "If you'll have me, Madolen. That's what I want."

I nod, "Yeah. Yeah, that's what I want as well."

"So I have to ask," Hans takes my hand, "will you-"

I tackle Hans as I leap into the water, sending the rowboat rocking at my departure. When we surface I wrap my arms around his shoulders and kiss his face, trying to match the amount of spots on him before stopping on his lips. I pull away after a moment to catch my breath, panting hard in excitement. I wipe the salt from my face. "I'm, huff, I'm sorry, huff. I don't, huff, know what happ-"

"Marry me, Madolen," Hans finishes his prior sentence in more of a desire than a request. He looks at me with thoughtful and profoundly strong eyes, brows showing intense focus on only me.

"Yes. Yes! Oui! Oui! And _oui_ ma plus chère!" I nod, almost crying.

"Let me put this on you," Hans smiles at me. I raise my hand and Hans slips the ring onto its designated finger.

"Hans, we're sparkling," I say, only noting now that the plankton are pressed to our skin, making us shine in spots of blue. "I've never been happier. This night's perfect, Hans." I kiss him again, holding him closer. He pulls me nearer, almost competing with me.

"Det er den, Madolen," Hans says as we pull apart, smiling at me. "Jeg er sa glad."

I grin delightedly, ready to squeal when someone else does it for me.

"Ah! My best friend is getting _married_!" yells a voice I know for sure to be Gala's.

Hans and I both look to the shore to see Gala racing about joyfully across the beach. A man follows after her, "Gala! Get down! You're ruining their moment!"

"Jasper? Gala?" I look to Hans. "What are they doing here?"

"Well," Hans wipes a hand over his face. "I did tell you Jasper was going to be here. Gala, however… you've got me there." I lean into the bend where neck turns to shoulder, almost sure Hans would disappear should I let go. Hans plants a kiss atop my head as the sunlight makes an appearance.

"Woo! _Married!_ " comes Gala's shrieks of ecstasy.

A/N: So that's that. Please do leave a review if you're reading. I value correspondence more than one might think. The wedding will be featured in the next chapter. Take care!


	7. Chapter 6

A/N: Hi again, everyone! I'm loving the feedback! It really got me amped to type late into the night. The love is felt! I feel like I should explain a little bit.

First off, I'm glad that people are taking to Gala, the king and queen. It does me something great to know that I'm doing it right.

So, in response to a review that was posted about Hans' choice to have twelve children: there is indeed a legitimate reason behind me putting that thought in his mind. It quite adds to the drama and his development as a person in the fanfiction. Don't stress. :D I got your back.

Disclaimer: I do not own Frozen or the Frozen franchise.

Hans

"Across, underneath, under and…under again…?" King Wiatt mumbles as he struggles to figure out how to fasten the gold bow that's meant to be clipped to the end of my gold-brimmed pale blue epaulet closest to my shoulder. "Wait, did I say 'under' twice?"

"Thrice, King Wiatt," I tell.

"…Oh dear."

Queen Nancy grins as she rolls her eyes at her husband in the doorway of my room. "Move aside, Wiatt. Why don't you go check on Madolen? I can take it from here."

"Nancy!" King Wiatt startles as he wife struts boldly towards us. "How long have you been standing there?"

"Long enough for me to watch you retie this bow three times," she plants a loving kiss on his blonde stubble covered cheek. "Madolen, honey."

"Yes, dear," Wiatt salutes me before he marches towards his daughter wherever she might be.

"Why is it that you don't know how to tie a bow?" Queen Nancy undoes the knot her husband birthed. "I'd assume a young man like you is constantly being dragged to uppity class gatherings."

"Today my perfectionism has its hold on me," I say. "I can't seem to be pleased with any of the results."

"You'll find it's impossible to disagree that anything I make is less than a work of art," asserts Queen Nancy. "Are you nervous?"

I clear my throat. "More than I thought I'd be." I glance down at the queen. "Did my family make the trip?"

"As far as I know, we haven't yet received news of any ships," tells Nancy. "But-"

"Oh my _goodness_!" I turn to the doorway – the direction of the intercepting voice – and see Agnes, hands cupped over her mouth. "Look at you, Hans!" she stares, bewildered, at the sight of me in a silver double breasted military jacket, studded with bright gold buttons. Pale blue trousers fit around my legs, and shiny black boots ride up to my shins. "Look at him, Lars! Look at you, Hans!" Agnes' ecstatic squeals have never been more missed; I find myself grinning as she continues to chatter to a Lars' I assume is still on his way.

"Your bow it done, Prince Hans," smiles Queen Nancy as she fastens it where it should be. She pats me on the shoulder before fully turning her attention to Agnes.

"Excuse me, ma'am," a gentleman passes by Agnes into my room. "Your Majesty Hans, if you would please have a seat. I'm meant to groom you for the day."

"Of course," I sit at one of the stools provided for me and immediately the gent begins attending to my mane.

" _Agnes_ , you can't just go storming around peoples' castles, love," says Lars, finally appearing at his wife's side. He heaves heavy breaths as he speaks.

"Well, they said that he was in this room," starts Agnes. "I couldn't stand by and be forced to wait for _all_ of us Westegaards to be announced."

"You all came?" I question, eager for an answer.

"Hans, you look brilliant!" Lars' face immediately lights up the sight of me. Agnes punches him in the shoulder. "Ah! Agnes?"

"I _told_ you," beams she. "I'm sorry I hit you, though." Agnes rubs the afflicted area. She turns to Queen Nancy and rushes to her. "How rude of me. You _must_ be the queen of this marvellous kingdom. It's _such_ an honour to be here. Thank you for having us."

"It's quite a pleasure," Queen Nancy laughs as she speaks. "You make it an enjoyable experience."

Lars comes to introduce himself to the queen. "I am Hans' older brother, Lars. This is Agnes, my wife."

"You two make a dynamic pair," grins the queen.

"You can say that again," Lars gives a tired and knowing smile but it isn't the slightest bit untrue.

"Did you bring your entire family?" the queen repeats my question.

"Yes. It wasn't easy," laughs Lars. "It really, wasn't easy. But we managed."

"Well, I hope to make your stay as pleasant as possible," the queen smiles.

…

Madolen

"Look at me." I glance at Hettie as she instructed, she scrutinizes the work of her makeup. "Close your eyes again."

"I'm so excited, Hettie," I start, fiddling with my hands. "I never envisioned myself getting married. I knew it would happen eventually. But I never dreamed of it. You know?"

Hettie has a chuckle in her throat as she steps away to further examine her work. "I know, my dearest. It's been a wild ride, taking care of you, it's hard to believe that today is here."

I smile a closed lip smile. "May I look at my makeup?"

"Very well," says she.

I look into the mirror and jump a little in my seat with glee. "I can't believe I'm looking at _me_ about to get _married_." I laugh.

"Believe it, chocolate," comes Da's voice as he enters my room. "You look fantastic, Madolen."

I hop out of my seat and run into my father's arms. "I'm so glad you came to see me. I didn't know if you'd be able to."

"I'm always available for my two favourite girls," Da squeezes me tightly. "The wedding should start very soon. How are you feeling?"

I shrug my shoulders although still beaming. "I wish I was three years old again. I can't wait for the time to come, but at the same time, I could wait an eternity."

Da laughs at me loudly. He pulls away from me to stare into my eyes. "You'll always be three years old to me, my chocolate. But I'm afraid the eternity will have to happen in another life, love. But I bet that second life can't even begin to compete with this one." My father kisses my forehead, lingering for a moment in what I'm certain is a state of nostalgia. "I love you so, so, _so_ much, Madolen."

"I love you so, so, _so_ much more, Da," I pull back into my father's embrace. "So much more."

The ringing of a heavy bell cuts me and my dad short of our bonding, announcing to all that the ceremony is about to take place.

"Let's go, chocolate," Da says, as he draws my veil over my head. He takes my hand before he addresses Hettie. "Thank you, Hettie! Madolen looks like magnificent."

I blow a kiss at Hettie. She responds with a playful wink.

Da and I begin our way into the castle, winding about the halls until we reach the large main doors where a carriage awaits with a pair of shimmering stallions.

"Good morning, Your Majesties," greets Jasper dressed smartly in all black and gold before the carriage. He opens the door and offers a polite bow. As we pass by we give our greetings. Jasper shuts the door and hobbles into his seat as the driver. "The groom, his family and most of the town have gone to the cathedral already. Including Gala and the Queen."

"Looks like we're going to be fashionably late," says Wiatt. "Good thing it's kind of our job to be lazy."

"Da!" I laugh. "Any excuse to put your mind at ease."

"A bad excuse is still as good an excuse as a good excuse." I shift to look out of the windows at the emptying streets. Shops are shutting down for the day, kids are being shooed out of the streets and herded to the cathedral, and each man woman or child that sees me throws a smile and a hoot of excitement. "Someday, it's all gonna be yours, Mads." Da's voice fishes me back from my dreaming.

"Especially now that I'm getting married," I huff a laugh, as I wave back at the people. "Sooner or later I'm going to need to put my skills to the test."

"Sooner or later," repeats Dad.

"Hopefully later rather than sooner," I scoot back in to sit closer to my father. "When you're old and wrinkly and telling me the tale of great grandad Rafael for the umpteenth time."

"Madolen, I don't age," scoffs Dad boldly. "The world just moves at a quicker speed than I do… much quicker. It's as if you were at my door after a horrible nightmare plagued your dreams just a day ago."

I smile warmly at my dad, taking his hand in mine. The carriage pulls to a halt and Jasper's voice comes from outside.

"We've arrived, Your Majesties!" he swings the door open and Da hops out, offering me a hand out of the carriage. A crowd of eager and joyful people await us. They cheer loudly, but their voices seem like ambiance as everything weaves into one. In the moment, the already goliath cathedral walls seem so much larger as the roofs disappear into the clouds made golden by the sun's shine. "Good luck and congratulations, Princess Madolen." Jasper offers with a small smile. "I look forward to calling you 'Queen' someday."

"Thank you, Jasper," I beam, feeling tears forming at the earnest belief and praise coming off of Jasper. "I look forward to serving you and all of Casmont ruthlessly."

"Then get in there," he beams.

I give him one last smile before I pick up my skirts and my gold coated slippers clank towards the cathedral in synch with my fathers.

We march up to the doors up a wide path maintained by stern looking guards. Once at the entrance we wait for our cue to make an appearance, arms linked. Da and I stand in silence, not feeling the urge to say much of anything, just to enjoy the final moments we have together while things are still semi-normal. Before we know it, the heavy, old doors of the cathedral are drawn open and a large assembly turns to face me. I take in a long breath, feeling my knees already giving in before they can begin their purpose.

…

Hans

As the doors part, King Wiatt and his daughter begin their walk down the isle. I find it difficult to look anywhere but to Madolen. I can tell she has some nerves as she slowly marches in her silk white dress, free of lace or embellishment or the company of multiple skirts as is usually seen in Europe. No, her dress starts in a straight horizontal line right on her clavicle that goes from one shoulder to the other and covers her arms down to her wrists. The dress loosely hugs her shape down to her ankles, and a slit climbs from the centre of her dress up to her knees. Her hair is twisted into a braid that runs horizontally across the nape of her neck. The one item of tradition on her person is the flower garland crafted of yellow superbells, their leaves left to fly as they wish. Her flower crown sits attached to her veil.

By the time she reaches me, it feels as if no time at all has passed. She stands before me, and in her heeled shoes she stands just shy of a head shorter than me. I take her hands and she seems to only note me now that I'm right in front of her, hand in mine. Her marvel and awe are more than apparent and they easily overpower any anxiety from before. She nips her lower lip in what appears to be a failed attempt at concealing an obvious smile.

"Dearly beloved," begins the reverent in a tale I've heard may a revenant tell eleven times before. "We've gathered today, in this sacred place to witness a union sacred." As he proceeds with his customary speech, I squeeze Madolen's hand in support. At the gesture, she silently meets my eyes and returns the favour, lips pressed in grin.

It's been a long time coming that I finally got my share of time in the sun – after being hidden in the shadows for as long as I have been. At last being in a place worthy of praise and recognition, being someone worth acknowledging - it's as gratifying as I imagined and longed it'd be. I rub my thumb over Madolen's knuckles in my brood.

In no time at all, the ring bearer produces the rings on a white plush cushion and I pluck Madolen's gold ring off its seat, a sparkling peridot on it. She gives me her hand and I lock eyes with her as I home the wedding band. Madolen pauses for just a second to cherish the moment, before picking up my gold ring and delicately donning it on me.

"Repeat after me," comes the officiant's voice. It's funny that all I know this officiant by is his voice, due to my focus on my future wife. "I, Hans Westergaard, take you, Madolen Maude, to be my wife."

"I, Hans Westergaard, take you, Madolen Maude, to be my wife."

The priest continues. "I promise to be true to you in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health."

"I promise to be true to you in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health."

"I will love you and honour you all the days of my life," closes the officiant.

"I will love you and honour you all the days of my life," I repeat. Madolen's smile grows as I finish.

"Princess, Madolen, if you will repeat after me," starts the officiant again. "I, Madolen Maude, take you, Hans Westergaard, to be my husband."

Madolen takes a breath as she begins. "I, Madolen Maude, take you, Hans Westergaard, to be my husband."

The officiant proceeds. "I promise to be true to you in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health."

"I promise to be true to you in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health."

"I will love and honour you all the days of my life," ends the reverent.

"I will love and honour you all the days of my life."

"You have declared your consent before the Church. May the Lord in his goodness strengthen your consent and fill you both with his blessings. What God has joined, men must not divide. Amen." The priest shuts his Bible I draw back Madolen's veil. Her face has been dolled up to match the golden flowers atop her head with hues of gold on her eyelids and a striking red colour to her lips.

"You look really nice," Madolen whispers.

I grin at her. "You look like a queen, Madolen." With that, I cup Madolen's cheek and pull her in for a kiss. She brings her arms around my neck and the crowd cheers in celebration. I smile at Madolen as we pull apart, then I nod to the entrance, suggesting that we take our leave. Madolen takes my hand and we head down the isle as applauds are chucked our way all the way out the door. Once we hit the light outside, the cheering only grows wilder. Madolen and I wave appreciatively. The amount of reception makes it a tough task not to smile after being so accustomed to a cold shoulder. "We're married, Madolen," I smile down at her, wrapping an arm around her waist.

"We are," Madolen smiles back at me affectionately.

"Congratulations, Your Majesties!" cheers Jasper as he opens the carriage door.

"Thank you, Jasper," I grin. "It's you and Gala next."

"What he said," Madolen laughs as she steps into the carriage.

"Very funny," Jasper laughs the thought away as he shuts the door behind me. He gets into his seat and shortly after the carriage begins moving.

I wrap an arm around Madolen's shoulders, and she nuzzles next to me. "I saw your parents at the service," she starts. "And I can't say for sure, but I think I saw your brothers and their wives. They were all seated together, and they looked a bit like you, so I gathered… you know."

I kiss the top of Madolen's head. "I know. They all made it. You'll have to meet them at breakfast. I'm sure they'll behave themselves. Regardless, I'll be with you."

…

Madolen

"There she is!" comes the booming voice of a man I don't know. I look up from my plate to see a tall sturdy, dark brown haired man coming to greet me, followed by a red haired young woman I can only assume to be his spouse. He rockets a large hand right at me. "Jurgen Westergaard. It's so nice to finally meet you."

"It's so nice to meet _you_ , Jurgen," I set down my plate on a nearby table. We're gathered in the dining Garden's for breakfast. Several large tables provide parking for the monster of a feast that this is. I'd assumed that the food might be far too much and excessive at first. But now, in the company of the rather tall men and women of the Southern Isles, I'm certain they need the calories.

"This must be your wife."

"Ja, my kone, Britt," says Jurgen.

Britt, offers a bright smile, her freckled face a picture of beauty. "It's a pleasure."

"Likewise," I grin. "I hope you're enjoying your stay thus far?"

"It's almost impossible not to," laughs Jurgen.

"Bror, you've started introductions," comes another Westergaard brother, a small girl in his arms. The golden haired man speaks to what I guess is his golden haired daughter, eyes on me. "Say, 'hej, Princess Madolen' Elin."

"Hej, Princess Madolen," says the toddler child.

"Oh, good girl," says the man. He addresses me now as the little girl buries her face in her father's chest. "I'm Caleb." He offers a polite bow. "This is my datter," he says.

"She's absolutely sweet," I grin. "Have you had the cake, Elin?"

Caleb exchanges words that are too quick for me to catch with his daughter and she lights up as he sets her down. She runs off towards the wedding cake. "

"She's gotten big, bror," says Jurgen to Caleb.

"And _heavy_ ," laughs Caleb.

"She's your first born?"

"Ingen, she's the fifth," says Caleb.

"Oh," I remark. "How old is she?"

"Two this year," responds Caleb.

" _Two_?" I question, in disbelief.

"That's right," Caleb grins.

"Madolen, there you are." Hans comes up from behind me and places a pair of hands on my shoulders. "I see you've met my brothers Jurgen and Caleb. And the lovely Britt."

"I have," I start. "And Caleb's daughter Elin, who's two."

"Ah yes, Elin," Hans says. "I bumped into her. She was on her way to the cake table. Did you all eat?"

"Ja," laughs Jurgen. "After Runo bragged and boasted about the food, we _had_ to."

"You did well for yourself, bror," says Caleb. "Let's hope you _keep_ doing good."

"Don't worry about me," Hans tells. I can't read his expression because he's behind me, but one doesn't need to meet his eyes to tell he's eager to end the conversation. "I'd love to stick around and speak some more, but I have yet to introduce Madolen to everybody else."

"Alright, then, Hans," smiles Caleb. "It was great talking to you, Madolen."

"You'll make a great svigerinde," says Jurgen.

I say my goodbyes as Hans leads me away from the group. "Svigerinde?"

"Sister in law," he tells.

"Oh. And datter is daughter?" I glance up at Hans. "And kone is wife?"

"Ja and ja," Hans nods. "How was the conversation?"

"It was alright. They seemed nice enough," I tell. "But, I mean, most people are very nice the first time that you meet them."

"Well, the people I'm taking you to meet are nice every time you meet them," Hans says.

"Lars, here comes Hans!" comes the voice of a brown eyed blonde haired young woman who has energy to match Gala's. As we approach she wraps me in a loving hug. "You have such a wonderful home. It was a great service. I'm Agnes, Lars' is my husband."

"That's me – the mand," beams a brunette haired man with striking blue eyes. "Welcome to the family."

"And you," I smile back. "Have you met my friend's Gala and Jasper? I feel like you two should have a gathering."

Hans snorts a laugh, catching on quickly to what I'm implying.

…

"I'm going to miss my old room," I say, taking off my flower crown. I catch Hans looking out the large window of our new shared room, eyes transfixed on something I don't know of. He comes to my side after he's had his fill of the view.

"All I'm concerned about right now is the company," says he putting an arm around me waist and kissing my cheek.

I snicker and stroke his hair fondly, "I like what you did with your hair." The slicked back look is good on him.

"Well, then," starts Hans. "I'll do it more often." He smirks as he draws me closer to him.

A/N: There ya go, folks! It was pretty difficult to get all my facts straight in the period of time that I wrote this, but it didn't make it any less fun. As always, please review! Take care 3!


	8. Chapter 7

A/N: Hi, guys! Here's chapter 7, fresh from the oven. I'm not going to say a heck of a lot, other than read, enjoy, and review. :)

Disclaimer: I do not own Frozen or the Frozen franchise.

Hans

I've been up since an hour ago, staring at the ceiling, unable to capture sleep. Madolen's nestled into my side not making a sound, aside from the bouts of shivers on her person. Each time I cover her up, she kicks the comforters off.

"J'ai froid," murmurs she.

"Do you want the covers, Madolen?" I prop myself up to recover the blankets.

"Quoi?" she continues, obviously sleep talking.

I drape the plush comforters over Madolen before I end up on my side, cradling Madolen who buries herself further into my chest. "Better?" I stroke Madolen's shoulder.

"Quoi?" she repeats faintly.

I grin at my spouse's spewing. All is calm for a while before Madolen kicks the comforters off of herself again. After repeating the act of covering Madolen up a number of times, the light of the morning begins to wash in through a crack in the cobalt curtains. I creep out of bed and make my way over to the bathroom. I run the bath and stretch out all my limbs, releasing a loud yawn. I return to the room to find Madolen undisturbed and I climb into bed behind her. "Good morning, Madolen." She shifts at the feeling of kisses on her cheek, temple and forehead. "Madolen," I whisper into her ear. "Wake up, kone."

"Mmm," Madolen rolls onto her back, eyes pressing shut tighter as she continues her groaning. Her features soften as I rub my thumb across her cheek. She opens her eyes and smiles at me. "Hej, mand." I grin at her change of lingo and we stare warmly at one another before Madolen takes my hand and examines it. She grins at me, curious to see my reaction before turning back to my hand. "How interesting..."

"I'm all around spectacular," I start, leaning my head to the side and offering a small shrug of knowing.

"But what are you looking for on my hand?"

"I've never _seen_ your hands before," smiles she, speaking her next words slowly. "You're always wearing gloves – hiding these stars on your hands. And the rest of you at that."

I grin at her fondness of the slightest detail about me. Like the freckles that faintly paint me from my fingertips to my core. "...I ran a bath. We should get ready for today."

"Okay," Madolen slowly sits up, pouting at me. "If you insist."

"Come, it should be ready," I take Madolen's hand and patiently wait for her to shimmy out of the large bed, endowed with dark blue clothes to match the window covers. "I'm afraid the agenda today is very busy."

Madolen gets to her feet with my assistance and follows me into the dark blue marble covered bathroom. "What do we have to do?"

"My family will be here until dinner."

"It's only proper of us to be good hosts till then."

"Exactly," I tell. "Then, we have the everyday nitty gritty."

...

Madolen

"The harvest in the Southern Isles isn't what we thought it'd be," says Jurgen, after swallowing a chunk of steak. "Granted, it's enough to sustain us and give to Casmont where we can. But it isn't to our expectations."

"Ja, I thought we'd struggle with most of our crops during March," Hans adds beside me. "The livestock were alright when I left. Alright and very pregnant."

"They still are," King Berde says. "It'll be a few more months, but no one will starve."

I glance around at the plates of our guests – they're _teeming_ with food. The idea of starvation seems more probable. I look to my side at Hans' dish and surprise sinks in as I realize for the first time how much my husband truly eats.

"Enough _business_ ," says Ma, cutting through the chatter of industry as she raises her wine glass. "Here's to a union between Casmont and the Southern Isles and less blabber about the troubles to come." We all raise our glasses, laughing at my mother's words.

"Hear, hear!" I giggle.

After everyone has a drink of wine, Agnes speaks up.

"I _was_ going to ask when the storm might be," starts Agnes. "But seeing as the queen has ruled against such chatter. I'll ask this: when is a little Westergaard coming?" Agnes smiles brightly with her eyes at Hans before they bounce at me. She rests her chin in her open palm, her elbow planted into the table as she awaits a response. Hans' family copies Agnes' interest and waits with just as much curiosity.

Hans and I share a thoughtful look before returning to the table where the crowd of twenty plus people suddenly seems much larger. "We've spoken, um, about children," I start.

"We hope to start as soon as possible, but the first priority is the storm – which, for your knowledge, Agnes, will hit sometime this week." Hans finishes, coming to my rescue. He covers my hand with his on the table top. "We'll let you know if the plans change."

"Well, please do keep us notified. I, for one, would love to see a baby," says Da cheerily. "Which features will prevail? Which characteristics would triumph? You all have very pronounced, strong, Scandinavian features." Da continues.

"Ja!" laughs Franz, emerald eyes alight. "Imagine the born. Maybe he'll have bror's red hair."

"Or the Westergaard freckles," says Queen Sorina, she stares at her husband's freckle flushed face.

"He'd have the curliest hair," adds Caleb.

"What if it's a girl?" I question as I begin to cut into my lamb.

"Well, who's to say that we can't have both?" Hans shrugs as he pours a second helping onto his plate.

"Mmm, I agree," says Jurgen, nodding. "The more the better."

"How much more?" I quiz. "Too much of a good thing is still a bad thing, right?" I look to my husband as polite laughter emanates from the opposite side of the dinner table, where the Westergaard clan reigns, even spilling over onto my side of the table in their many numbers.

"Not when it comes to security," says Runo. "When we all die someday, a born will succeed us. What if he dies before his time?"

"It's best to have other children involved," Rudi tells, nodding.

"Does 'other' have a number attached to it?" I press. "How many children do you all have? Agnes?"

"Lars and I have five little ones," she smiles at her silent husband who returns the grin. "We may have another later this year."

"Caleb has seven," says Jurgen. "And Brit and I are hoping for our sixth."

"I have eight little monsters myself," Franz chuckles.

My parents and I meet eyes at the descriptions that go on before us. "It's clear that you all strongly believe in strength in numbers." Da smiles. "If it were family against family, you'd have the upper hand."

There's a rumble of laughter that fills the room.

"So, how many children do you all expect from Hans and I?" I seize the opportunity to get a 'lay of the land' so to speak. "I want to try to meet the expectations."

"We're on different pages in this regard," Hans says. "Madolen is more inclined to have less children."

"I'm willing to have four kids," I tell. "it's not a fixed number, but I hope it's a good number."

"I think we'd all love to have as many little kids from the two of you as we can," Queen Sorina says.

"I'm waiting on pins and needles," Agnes beams brightly.

"So Madolen's compromise of four children is sufficient? " Ma questions. Even without looking, can tell that my mother and father sense the tension between Hans and I on this topic, as much as we try to be kind about it.

"Ja, that's a good amount," Caleb says nodding.

"Just so long as we have definite assurance that there's someone of blood to take over when we're all gone," says Lars. "You have that end covered, don't you, Franz?"

Laughter explodes on both sides of the table, and we contentedly eat until the night draws on.

...

"Well, that was an interesting dinner," I sit at the vanity table as I undo the day's braid. I mumble my next words. "Very educational."

Hans comes up and kisses my temple. "What did you learn?"

"Just a lot about your family in general," I say. "Well, I should say _our_ family."

"I'd say there was a bit of confusion," Hans heads to the cupboard and pulls out his bedtime clothes. "On your part more than anyone else."

I sigh, realising where Hans is going with this. I glance at him though the mirror. "I just wanted to see what the cause for so many kids is."

"Did you find out?" our eyes meet through the glass.

"Oui, I think," I spin in my chair to face my husband who's now seated on the edge of the bed, slipping off his boots. "Hans, children aren't assets. They're people." I say gently. Hans shoots up a brow in interest as I proceed lightly. "I'm happy to have kids but, the amount you want is a big responsibility. And it doesn't look like anyone but your dad has that many."

"So if I wanted eight children you'd be more willing?"

"See, that's just it," I add. "You don't want twelve kids. I don't even think you want eight kids."

"How is it you know what I want?" Hans sits up and unbuttons his shirt.

"Hans, I don't know what you want," I say. "I want you to tell me."

"I think I have," says he. I sigh through my nose, ready to drop the topic as I whirl back into the vanity table. "What happened to our agreement?"

I kick off my shoes under the table. "What agreement?"

"The one where we decided to have one born first, then worry about adding more."

"It's still there," I fumble with the clasp on my necklace and Hans comes up behind me and offers his assistance. I say a word of thanks as he goes on.

"So why'd you have to ask my family what they wanted from us?" he says.

"I didn't think that'd be a problem," I say.

Hans drops the pearl necklace in my hand and takes that very hand to remove the bracelet that rests on it. "Of course. It's not as if they don't think poorly of me or anything. It's not as if I that'll add any more expectations onto my plate."

"Hans, we'll do this as a unit," I say. "Whatever burdens you, burdens me. We can handle anything together."

"Just not twelve children."

"Hans, I get that you're upset," I say. "But you're not even considering my side of any of this. I didn't grow up with siblings. I don't have any experience raising a child. You had Lars and Agnes to give you pointers with their babies at least, but not me. And have you _seen_ the size of your family's babies? Have you seen the size of me?" Hans places my bracelet in my palm. "You're acting like this baby thing is a deal breaker. What if I can't even have kids?"

"Let's hope you can, Madolen," Hans says. "Regardless of the number, children are very important to me."

I shake my head, finding that it's pointless to say more. "You're not listening."

"I listened to you moan about how miserable it'll be for you to bear children."

"Because it'll _be miserable_ ," I emphasise. "Yet I still want to do it. But not more than I have to, and I'm not having a dozen children if I don't have to."

"If it needs to be a must for you to do it, consider it a must."

I stand abruptly and look up at my husband – he betrays no signs of backing down. "Here's what I _must_ do, mon amour, I must ask you to not follow me when I leave. I'd like to be alone." Without saying anything else, I march hotly down the hall to the kitchen.

"Impossible, I swear," I grumble as I raid the cupboard and drawers for ingredients. I tuck a bag of sugar under my arm, followed by a stick of butter and a bag of flour. I smack them onto the island counter in the vast room and produce a large bowl for mixing. "Eggs. I need eggs," I try to occupy my mind with something other than Hans for the time being. I plant the eggs on the counter and angrily crack the eggs into the bowl. I hear the flutter of wings before my pale yellow Fabrice comes fluttering into the kitchen from an open window. He plants himself of my shoulder and begins to snuggle against me. "Oh, bonjour, Fabrice. I've missed you." I nuzzle against my pretty thing, the anger washing away from me as my movements slow. "Do you want to help me bake a cake?" Fabrice gives a befuddled look. "Believe me, sucré, I don't know what I'm doing either. But it makes sense, right?" I offer a nervous smile that fakes confidence as I proceed. "Speaking of sweet things, we need some sugar." I peck Fabrice on the cheek and he chirps. "Look at you, blushing." I poke fun at his red cheeks. I search the kitchen, unable to find the measuring cups. "I suppose we'll have to guess."

I add a pinch of salt to the mix. "Fabrice, do you think I'm being unfair to Hans by refusing to mother so many kids?" Fabrice give an interested look. "I compromise a lot, but I think this is too big a compromise. Maybe _he_ should relent. I want to be a mother, but having me is what put my mother in the grave to start with. Having so many enfants, it scares me." I stroke Fabrice as time wears on. After a few errors with my first and second batch, I attempt again to bake this cake. "Third time's the charm, Fabrice."

Hans

"Do you want help with that?" I step into the kitchen. Madolen frowns as she begins mixing something in a bowl.

"…I asked you not to follow me."

"I don't want us to sleep upset at each other," I put a hand on Madolen's shoulder and squeeze, turning her to face me. "I didn't mean what I said about you _needing_ to have kids."

"You sounded pretty certain," she looks anywhere but to me.

I lift Madolen's face so that we meet eyes. "I was just angry. I'm sorry. I just don't understand why it's so hard for you to-"

"Obey?"

"Ingen," I sigh. "No. I just want us to agree. That's all."

"…Yeah...Come help me bake this cake," Madolen says, a small smile spreading against her efforts. "I don't know what I'm doing, fair warning."

"Leave it to me," I draw the bowl closer to myself and begin mixing the wet ingredients. "Another bowl, please." Madolen retrieves a bowl and places it next to me. "Dry ingredients in here, Madolen."

"Are we gonna mix them together?"

"Ja, min elskede," I crack the eggs into the bowl.

"Min elskede?" Fabrice and Madolen share a confused look.

"It means 'my love'," I give Madolen a suave look and she bashfully turns her attention to the task at hand.

Madolen clears her throat and begins mixing the dry ingredients. "So, if we're gonna mix them, why separate them in the beginning?"

"So they can be thoroughly mixed I suppose."

"Well, that makes sense," Madolen goes about her job. "You didn't speak a lot of Danish before your family got here."

"Call it influence," I take over Madolen's bowl and combine the content. "You're of French-Austrian decent. You speak a good amount of French, especially in your sleep."

"I sleep talk?"

"All night," I laugh. "And you snore, love, very loudly."

"I do _not_ ," Madolen giggles.

"It doesn't change how I feel or anything, but it still happens," I tease.

Madolen shakes her head, "I don't know what you're talking about." She looks at me strongly, but jest is in her features. "If anything, _you_ snore." She wipes her hands with a moist cloth. "But, if I'm being honest, I like it a lot. It's very therapeutic."

"You don't say." I glance down at my wife, surprised and flattered that she _enjoys_ my snoring. "I'm just kidding though, Madolen, you don't snore," I tell. "You're a _very_ silent sleeper – save for the occasional sleep talking."

"What was I talking about?"

"I don't know. You were speaking French," I chuckle. "Do you speak German?"

"Ja Ich sprechen," Madolen grins up at me. "E Português."

"Say something to me in Portuguese."

"Like what?" Madolen pinches some sugar onto her tongue and offers some to Fabrice.

"Like anything," I bump my hips into her as she's about to sprinkle more sugar into her mouth, causing her to spill her treat. Fabrice fluffs his feathers in surprise.

"You did that on purpose," she snorts a laugh.

"That didn't sound like Portuguese to me," I smirk.

"Eu gosto bolo de chocolate," she says. "É chocolate, meu homem?"

"I heard 'chocolate'," I grin. "Given the fact that we're baking, I'm guessing you're talking about chocolate cake."

"Oui, you got the jist of it," Madolen says. She gets a dish to bake the cake in.

"I'd say I nailed it," I put the cake in the large oven and dust my hands.

Madolen sits on the counter and thinks over something before she speaks up. "Hans..." she looks down at her lap, seeming unsure of whether or not to proceed. I come up to her and take one of her hands. "I want us to agree also." Madolen looks up to meet my serious eyes; I offer a squeeze of her hands to encourage her to go on. "I think we both agree that we can't be happy if we ignore our problems."

"Ja," say I, rubbing my thumb across her knuckles. "I still think we should wait until we have a baby first before we worry too much, Madolen."

"Me too," she says. "I want that too. I just wanted to know." Madolen smiles faintly. "You never told me why you want twelve kids and not thirteen. That's how many of you there are."

"Maybe I'm a superstitious man," I squeeze Madolen just above her knee, causing her to jump and giggle at the tickling. She tries to push me away but I persists in my pursuit. "Uh, uh, uh, I just started, Madolen," I laugh.

"Hans, stop!" she squeals, still cackling. All the commotion causes Fabrice to flutter away.

"I orden, i orden. I'll stop that," I pause, my kone bites on her lower lip, a smile on them, as she waits for my next move. I give a sly look. "But I _won't_ stop _this_!" I attack her rib cage, and she guffaws as she tries to scramble away. I nab her wrists and press her down onto the counter. "How am I supposed to tickle you now?" I grin, our faces close.

"You're not supposed to," Madolen huffs, the aftermath of giggles not lost in her. "You we're supposed to answer my question."

"Oh, right," say I. "In all honesty... for the most part, my twelve brothers were well taken care of. Maybe it's the age difference, but they didn't really suffer as I did growing up. Although I know that I could never be my father, part of me thinks that he didn't care for me because I was one too many. I don't want a Hans Jr that'll struggle like me because of me." I shrug. "But that's probably me over thinking it."

"I'm glad you told me," Madolen smiles affectionately. "You're... you're not over thinking anything. But if you ever feel like you are, I'm here. I'll always be."

"Ja, me too." I smile back at her.

Madolen sighs through the nose. "What a way to start our first day as a married couple."

"Well, we may not have started the day right, but we can still end on a high note."

"What about the cake?" Madolen beams.

"We'll come back and check on it later," I draw Madolen up and cradle her in my arms as I march up the stairs.

A/N: There it is, chapter 7! I'm sorry that it took until the end of this week, but I just made it. So the tale starts to live up to its descriptions in the chapter to come. There will be angst, and there will be hurt, and there will be comfort, but there will also be heart warmers. Do leave a review if you're a reader and do have a lovely day!


	9. Chapter 8

A/N: Hi, everybody! I hope you're all doing dandy. These chapters that I'm busting out right now (this one and perhaps the one after) just need to be put out so the story doesn't have any gaps between calm and storm. But enough yadda yadda from me.

Disclaimer: I do not own Frozen or the Frozen franchise.

Madolen

"Gala?" I swing open and shut different cabinets in the spacious, dark green kitchen.

"Yes, Madolen?" Gala regards me, even as she fights with a warrior of a stain on the counter along the wall.

"You haven't seen a cake anywhere have you?"

"I have, actually," says she. "Your _husband_ and your parents had some for breakfast." Gala flutters her eyelashes as she speaks. "They were in the Gardens, maybe you can catch them before the finish it all."

'"I haven't had any at all," I pout.

"Well, you made it ten days ago, Madolen," says Gala, snickering.

"It probably wasn't even that good anyways, was it, Fabrice?"

Fabrice busies himself by pecking at his feathers, cleaning himself up.

"I'm almost going to miss having so many people in the castle," Gala says, wringing her cloth into a pail and wiping her hands with it before declaring herself done. "I don't think I've ever seen so many men and women and children of one family in the castle."

"That's Hans' dream," I say, biting into a peach. "He wants a whole horde of children."

"That sounds pretty nice," says Gala. "I'd love to have little ones as far as the eye can see."

"I should've given him to you," I snicker.

Gala laughs with me before she sighs a content sigh. "Can I get you something to eat, my darling friend?"

"I'd really like a fruit salad right about now," I say.

"A fruit salad?" Gala echoes. "Now I _know_ you're sick."

"Hey, I ate watermelon not too long ago," I add. "I'm turning over a new leaf."

"If you say so, Madolen," Gala snorts.

"I _am_ turning over a new leaf, so I _do_ say so," I state with a big grin. "I'll make myself a fruit salad in just a minute." I lean the peach over to Fabrice and he chomps cheerily on the juicy fruit.

"Nonsense," Gala busies herself getting to work on my breakfast. "You go and meet your parents and Hans' for the morning. Apparently the weather is doing something serious to the crops. They might be having a meeting in the Council area."

"I _should_ go," I stretch out my limbs and begin my journey to the Council area. "Take your time with the salad, Gala. Help yourself to some if you'd like."

"No promises that it'll still be there when you want it," she jeers.

…

"Hello, Madolen," greets Da. "So nice of you to join us – finally." He teases.

"I'm sorry, everyone," I begin as I enter the Council area, a vast room with high ceilings, fat windows and the interior décor of a very wooden boardroom. Hans pulls out a chair for me as I approach. I sit down groggily. "I thought I'd wake up much earlier today."

"No matter," Ma starts. "The matter would be the frost that's accumulated on our vegetables. We were informed that all the crops in the ground have been attacked by biting winds that have taken almost half of our crops out."

"That quickly?"

"I'm afraid so," Hans has a seat next to me at the long dark wood table. "The plants were peachy one morning and plagued the next."

"Then we should set up a greenhouse around the crops," I say.

"I thought we should too, but the terrain of that set of islands isn't an easy one," Hans says. "And most of the vegetables will _still_ perish. They can't handle the cold, even in the shelter."

"We'll only have spinach," I say lowly in thought. "What about the fish? Are they still okay? And the livestock?"

"The fish are fine," tells Ma. "But the livestock may take a toll as the weather wears on. There may not be anywhere for them to graze."

"We've put aside food for that possibility beforehand though," Da says. "And the absence of sea predators might prove a benefit for the spawning fish."

"Ew, Da," I snort a laugh.

"What?" my father laughs himself. "That's what they're doing."

"I know, I know," I grin. "I think we should find out the exact situation with the freezing crops and try to tent them before the end of the month."

"The terrain is the _most_ pressing matter, however," Hans says. "If we can, we should cover the crops. If we can't, it'll be a waste in time. We should just uproot the vegetables and cook and pickle them immediately instead of trying to save what's already dead."

"Should I tell Jasper to take some men and give us measures?"

"Yes, Mads, as soon as you can," Ma tells.

"I suggest that we also implement the 'Rainfall Project'," I tell. "We should get every household to set up their barrels to catch as much rain as we can."

"Then that's what we'll do," says Da. My parents begin to stand, and I assume the meeting has come to an end.

"Anything else?"

"No, nothing," Hans stands. "The three of us have handled everything else."

"Oh!" I blink, a little surprised. "Okay, well, I'll go do what I must then. It _is_ a few more days until the Cow Train."

"Oh I can't wait for the Almabtried," Da beams. "This storm isn't all bad, what with us having to rush the wedding and Almabtried we get twice the fun in even less than half the time."

"What exactly _is_ Almabtried?" Hans questions.

"I'm sure Madolen would have a more colourful way to explain it to you," Ma tells. "Better for her to sort of show you."

"The preparation is a bit rushed, but I can show you for sure," I tell.

"I think I'm going to have a lie down," says Ma as she slowly leaves. "My head's a bit all over the place."

"Anything to do with napping can _definitely_ include me," Da adds.

"Madolen, while everything is slow for a while, I thought we could go into the kingdom," Hans says. "You did say that you wanted more of an opportunity to be among our people."

"Yeah," I start. "That sounds like a great idea."

"Then come with me," Hans smiles.

Hans

Madolen loops her arm in mine and we start down the castle until reach the sun outside, shielded by the silver clouds. "I can feel it coming," Madolen holds her hand to block her eyes from the light.

I move my arm to wrap around Madolen's waist and pull her tiny frame closer to me, "We still have a good amount of time."

"Yeah," Madolen smiles up at me. "You didn't wake me up today."

"I saw you snoozing so peacefully, I couldn't bring myself to wake you," I start. "Besides, given the past few days, I thought you might like to sleep a little longer." I glance down at Madolen. "Are you feeling any better?"

"I think I am," Madolen begins a braid down the centre of her head and I comfortingly rub my hand up and down her side. "I'm still a little tired, but I'm fine."

"Hmm, it's not a fever," I gingerly touch Madolen's forehead. "You're a little warm."

"I'm _fine_ ," Madolen grins as she swipes my hand away from her head. "Really." she hops over to a young man selling different chocolates at a stall. "You should try some of this chocolate." she quickly exchanges with the man and pops a small brick of chocolate into my mouth.

"Mmm," I ponder the taste. "I'm glad I tried it." I raise a hand. "Wait right here and close your eyes."

"Oh, okay," she shuts her dark eyes and I take off to the other busy stalls. I stop at a seafood stall and order a piece of squid. I return to where Madolen is dutifully waiting for me to purchase some more dark chocolate. "Where'd you go?"

"Lemme work, Madolen," I grin. "Open your mouth, elskede."

Madolen seems to second guess herself, but does as told. I press the combo onto Madolen's tongue. She closes her mouth before I draw my finger away. "You… can open your eyes." Her large eyes open and she gives a small chuckle as I draw my hand away. "Can you guess what it is?"

"Umm, it's chocolate and really salty," she crunches her features in though. "What is it?"

"Squid and chocolate," I grin. "Good, isn't it?"

"That's the strangest thing I've ever eaten," Madolen smiles up at me. "But it was really good. What inspired that?"

"Back at home, there was a great surplus of squid," I begin. "So we had to get very creative with how we ate it. Squid for breakfast, lunch, dinner and desert."

"I'd imagine that you'd get tired of all that squid."

"I _did_ ," I laugh. "Ten year old Hans thought he might even become one should he eat anymore."

Madolen snickers at me before nudging me. "Do you see those people over there?" Madolen points to a group of men and women who rub a sticky substance onto the base of flower heads and stick them in elaborate patterns on the walls. Some of the others in the group brush bright orange, yellow, red and green decorations on the cobblestone ground – the Casmont colours. "They're 'lighting up' the road for the cows. They'll be someone who leads the cattle, of course, but it's a nice touch."

"Very nice touch," I tell. "That's why everyone is cooking so much today?" I question, noting all of the stalls out today – more than usual.

"Oui, it's a beautiful event," Madolen begins. "We take the cows up to the mountains to graze in the summer, and when we return them, we celebrate their arrival. There's food and music and it's hard not to be in a good mood when it all goes down."

"Will it be early tomorrow?"

" _Really_ early," Madolen tells. "People have already been sent out to get the cattle. The cows will be draped in all sorts of gorgeous garb. They'll be blossoms everywhere," she spins in a circle twice, skirts twirling with her spread out arms. "They'll be kiddies in the street throwing paint and selling it for us all to paint the town with. Everybody always looks forward to this day. As soon as the sun sees us, the event starts."

"I can't wait even that long," I grin.

"Me neither," Madolen laughs. "Come, let me show you something. It'll keep us occupied until tomorrow." She takes off at a speed that causes me to surrender a yelp of surprise.

We weave through the busy life of the kingdom until we reach the pristine but old walls that cage the kingdom. Madolen examines the wall for a moment brows crunched in concentration. She mumbles as she searches for something on the structure.

"You're very fixated on this brick wall," I tease.

Madolen punches my shoulder with a laugh. "I'm looking for something." She begins counting her steps softly. "One, two... three… ha!" Madolen presses her palm into the greying wall, a brick sliding out of place. She repeats the action further up the wall a few more times. She puts her foot in one of the gaps as a foothold and climbs up the colossal wall. "Come on, amar," Madolen meets the height of double story building windows as she progresses.

Although I wouldn't ever confess it, the height of most establishments scares me. In the security of a balcony or a building, the tallness doesn't bother me. But on a wall, in such aggressive wind – I see no security.

"Alright," I clap my hands together before I begin after her. "I'm guessing that you've done this before." I groan as I strain up the wall.

"All the time with Gala and Jasper," Madolen perches atop the wall. She wipes a hand across her forehead. "We were rascals as a bunch of twelve year olds."

I join Madolen on top of the wall. To divert my focus from the elevation we're at, I speak. "Forgive me, but the most daring thing I imagine you doing is leaving the water running." I tease.

"Haha har!" she sticks her tongue out at me."Let me prove you wrong," Madolen smirks at me as she stands tall on the wall. Her eyes narrow on the ocean before us.

"You aren't planning on jumping are you?" I swing my legs over the wall so that I'm facing the cobalt ocean. "There are rocks everywhere."

"Which is precisely why I don't plan to land anywhere but there," Madolen points to a patch of sea right in front of her that is free of any pestilence. "I've probably done it a hundred times before. Besides, I did the math."

"I thought you didn't swim."

"I don't drown, but I wouldn't call that swimming," Madolen swings her hands over her head, preparing to dive.

"Madolen," I turn serious as I see waves of courage in her features. "I don't think this is a good idea."

"It's totally safe," Madolen says, a light laugh leaving her. "It's not that far down. And if anything the sea level is higher now than it was back then."

I take a look down at the more than three kilometre drop into deep. Not to mention the cliff that forms Casmont's base she could fall onto. "No, Madolen."

"What do you mean, 'no'?" she crunches her brows at me.

"I mean it's not safe," I tell. "I don't want you hurting yourself."

"….Alright. Alright fine, I won't jump," Madolen sighs, shrugging her shoulders. "Let's go back down then."

"Thank you," I turn back, but just as I do, Madolen springs off of the barrage, hooting as she drops. "Madolen!"

"Wooaahh! Aahh!" she flails about for a few seconds, but gains her composure once again as she spears her body into a swan dive. "Woo!"

SPLASH!

"Madolen?" I crease my brows as I search for Madolen amongst the calm waters. Fabrice flutters in a circle above the waves, just as eager to see her safe. What feels like a decade of time passes when Madolen suddenly bursts up from the depths.

"Hah!" she laughs as she breaks the surface. She wipes at her eyes before waving to me. "Come on in, Hans. It's okay." Fabrice nestles into Madolen's face. "Oh, mon cher!"

"Madolen, you said you'd come back!" I yell, fuming at what she just did. "Do you realize how _badly_ this could have gone? What if you'd _died_?"

"What?" she calls back up at me. "I can't hear you, amar?" she whispers something to her cockatiel companion and he flutters up along the wall.

"Yes, you can," I hoot. "I'm not in the mood for games, Madolen."

"What?" she repeats. "Come down here so I can hear you better." I sigh in defeat, just as Fabrice comes up to meet me. He gives me a sly look, almost daring me to leap. "Don't be afraid, meu amar. It's not half as bad as it looks. Anything I can do, you can do." She says, now seated on a nearby bed of rocks, wringing out her dress.

"Alright, Hans," I mumble to myself. "Just… just give a little jump. That's all there is to it. A hop. A spring," I stand up on the wall. "Just a little-"

"Jump!" Madolen takes the word right out of my mouth as I leap off of the wall.

"Wooaahh!" I yell, the wind whipping past me and drying out my eyes. The ocean grows closer and closer and I land with a loud ' _smack_!' on my belly, silencing my screams.

Madolen

"Oooh!" I wince back at Hans' landing. After not seeing him for a moment I grow worried. "Hans?" I frown in focus as I search for him. Fabrice comes to sit on my shoulder and I lean forward to get a closer look. Hans shoots up from the water, painted rightly red from the impact of his landing. He wipes his hand over his face before pushing his hair out of his eyes. "You did it, Hans!" I clap giddily for him.

"Thank you, thank you. Yes, that's very nice. Very, very nice." Hans says coolly in a low voice, managing a bow in the deep waters. "Yes, ja and oui, I recognize my greatness."

I snort a laugh. "You'd better get out of the water, your greatness. The sharks could've left the Shores for the surf."

Hans cuts through the water to me and I help him out. "You reminded me actually, I was thinking of implementing some type of barrier to keep the sharks out of the Shores. A net of sorts."

"Well, that could work," I tell. "It'd ensure that the fish will spawn without threat."

"I'll run it by the king and queen," Hans says. He glances around himself, seemingly interested in the distance we've fallen. "How are we getting back up?"

"This way," I nod to the tower of rocks that begin at knee level, like a set of stairs. We start hopping from rock to rock, climbing higher and higher to meet the lip of the cliff that we just cleared. "Man, I'm really out of shape." I wheeze as I step onto the grass. I slip my shoes off and stick them into the gaps in the wall I made earlier by removing bricks. "I'm sorry that I was a little sneaky earlier."

"I should've trusted you more," Hans says, pulling his shirt over his head. He wrings it out as he comes over to the wall. "You were right after all."

I smile at him as I lean against the wall. "Yeah," I start. "Besides, you managed to do something you were afraid of today."

"I _did_ it," Hans tells, "not sure if I _liked_ it at all. But I did it regardless."

"I'm proud of you for it," I tuck a strand of hair into the now tired braid before clasping my hands behind my back. "You know, I wanted to surprise Gala and Jasper with a second date tomorrow."

"There's undeniable interest," Hans adds, taking his own shoes off.

"Exactly," say I. "Gala's just too proud to admit that there is and Jasper is too shy to explore the idea."

"You say that you all used to hang out," Hans starts. "Was their first date _that bad_ that it changed everything?"

I sit on the ground. "It was dreadful. Jasper showed up a whole hour late and then they argued the whole date about literally _everything_." Hans sits down beside me. "In the middle of that, Gala knocked a candle over and accidently set Jasper's favourite coat on fire. And they argued about who should apologize to whom. Jasper demanded an apology for his coat and Gala for her time."

"Hmm," Hans wipes his hand over his hair. "Perhaps the Cow Train is the best time for them to reconnect. Given the mood of it all. I doubt they could be mad at each other in middle of all the festivities."

"I should've gotten Agnes and Lars to speak to them," I snap my fingers. "Did they instantly click?"

"Hahaha!" Hans laughs loudly at the question. "Maybe one of them did. Lars wasn't ready to be with anybody when Far introduced him to Agnes. Naturally, Agnes adored Lars and wanted to know all about him and be with him constantly so that he'd warm up to her. It took him some time, but her personality can wear down any walls. And she won him over with that."

I think for a moment before speaking. "All your brothers are married except Runo. Why?"

"He _was_ married," Hans says. The wind picks up, blowing his hair lightly. "Valerie died three years ago from complications with her third born. It was a shock for everybody."

"…I'm sorry, Hans," I gently squeeze Hans' hand. "It must've been difficult for the family to recover from such a blow."

"It was, but we did," Hans says, clenching my hand back. "We always will." Hans wills himself out of the topic. "I recovered from that belly flop, didn't I?"

I cup Hans' face in both my hands with a wide beam. "You should see how red you are, amar. It's so cute."

Hans smirks at me. "Well I'm glad you're amused at my expense, but I should be compensated somehow."

"What can I do for you?"

"The thing I want right now is a kiss."

My smile widens as I get on my knees to peck Hans' cheek. "Satisfied?"

"I think you can do better than that," Hans grins.

I throw my head back in a laugh. I plant another kiss on Hans' forehead. "Is it to your satisfaction now, amar?"

"I can't tell just yet," Hans says. "Maybe a few more kisses will make it clear to me."

I stroke Hans' cheek, his skin warm, and beard pricking me. I can't tell if he's warm because of the area he was raised in, or the belly flop that is still very evident. I begin my pursuit in touching kisses all over Hans' face. When I pull back, I see his eyes are shut and a tiny smile on him. "How about now, my sultan?" I toss some humour at the way he so leisurely relaxes while I dote on him.

"You missed a spot," Hans opens one eye and point to his mouth.

"How could I have forgotten that?" I put a soft kiss on his lips before doing the same to his nose, the kiss on his sniffer lingering. "You're totally accounted for now." I tell as I pull back and sit back down. I rest my head against Hans' shoulder, my eyes threatening to shut with sleep. Then a biting wind brushes past Hans and me, startling me wide awake. The fabric of my dress grows drier by the second as it flaps viciously even as I'm seated. "Hans, I think… I think it's happening."

Hans stands up readily and helps me to my feet. The grey, silvery clouds plunge to a darker and darker shade of threat, seemingly working hand in hand with the wild winds.

"Madolen, we need to get back to the castle," Hans ushers me up the wall.

"Yeah, okay," Fabrice and I start up the bricks. I grab him and tuck him into one of my pockets. "The winds are too serious, my Fabrice." We clear the wall and Hans follows. I stare up for a moment at the sky, the thunder shaking me. "It's finally here – the storm."

A/N: There you have it lads and ladies. I hope you had a good read. I _did_ say that there would be some drama in this fanfiction and I _shall_ deliver. I just want to ease you all into it. But be there it will be. Take care!


	10. Chapter 9

A/N: Hi, everyone! So, I'm sorry that I'm a bit late, I wasn't actually at home last week and this week I needed to resettle. But in the process of all that, I re-read chapter 8 and saw that there were some glitches. I've patched them up now if you're interested, and if not, that's still cool. You do you.

Anywho! Here's chapter nine, have a good read!

Disclaimer: I don't own Frozen or the Frozen franchise.

Madolen

"Oh stop fussing over us, Madolen, we'll be fine," tells Ma as she strains a composed face. "I'm as tough as an ox. I just need some rest."

"Ma, I'm getting really worried," I take my mother's hand. Thunder rumbles from outside, causing me to look out the wide window that pours in only darkness from the clouds. "It's bad enough that the people can't celebrate the Cow Train, but now you and Da are so sick that you can't get out of bed."

Ma groans, "We're _fine,_ Madolen," she. "Just a little sore."

I sigh, seated on a stool beside my mother's bed. I take the bowl of soup on her bedside table and offer it to her. "Please eat, Ma. You've been vomiting the whole night."

"Oh, my diamond, I couldn't," says she. "I don't feel at all hungry."

"You _must_ eat _something_ , Ma," I inch the bowl closer to my mother. "You'll starve." Mother's face scrunches with disinterest as she turns her nose up at the dish. I frown at the state of her, curled up in a fetal position, face whiter than fresh snow, eyes dull and breathing irregular. "Maybe later?" I brave a small smile, resisting the tears that I jail.

Ma smiles at me despite the suffering that's painted on her eyebrows. "Mmm, I'll eat a small village later." Her eyes open and she looks at me with concern. "Where's your father, sweets?"

"I bumped into him on my way to see you both. He said he wanted to go for a walk," I shake my head as I set down the green pea soup. "He's taking his rounds in the Ballroom perhaps, or the Gardens."

Ma huffs a minute laugh. "Of course he is. That's your father, a man of movement. Can't sit still for half a second."

"He's still trying very much to rule Casmont in this state," I frown. "I'm sorry I got you both so sick."

Ma laughs. "Blame us for not taking our daily dose of citrus, sweets," she says. "It'll be over before long. It's only been a night after all."

"Yeah," I force a smile. "I still need to tell the kingdom what we're doing about today's event."

"I insist that you proceed as you would've."

I shake my head. "It won't be right if you and Da can't enjoy it."

"We'll both be there, sweets," says Ma. "The whole kingdom has worked so hard for this, and they could use some cheer in the face of such adversity. The storm may not give us a chance to be jolly once it starts, so take this chance now."

I nod, "Okay… I'll alert everybody."

"Good," grins Ma. "Go do that before the sun rises, love. Get ready and go enjoy today. Da and I will be there, but _first_ , I need to sleep."

I grin back at her. "Alright, Ma." I lean over and kiss her forehead before I stand. I leave the room, stopping in the doorway to speak, "Sleep well."

Ma gives me a wink as I shut the door.

I take a spoonful of the soup and console myself with the food as I head down the hall to my bedroom. I step into the dark room and quietly shut the door. I set the dish on the dresser before I stride to the bed and crawl over to my husband. When I woke up this morning, he was still snoozing.

"Morning, amar," I take a pillow and hug it close to me as I cross my legs.

"Godmorgen, Madolen," he grins. "You're up early today."

"I… was visiting my mother," I grin back. "I spoke to her and she says we should still have the Cow Train. I think she's right. We could all use something to pep our spirits."

"Ja, elskede," Hans wipes a hand over his face before he looks up at me. "Are Wiatt and Nancy improving at all?" his voice is low and tired, slow and deep, but still full of concern.

"The doctors say it's just a cold," I hug the pillow tighter. "They should be fine in a few days."

"And what about you?" Hans puts his hand on my kneecap, rubbing his thumb over it. "Are you feeling better?"

"Much better today," I tell. "I wasn't doing too well last night, but I'm great."

"Maybe that's all they need, Mads," Hans gently squeezes me, "- some rest."

A hopeful smile blossoms on my face. "I orden, i orden, elskede," I mimic Hans.

"Oh? Is that meant to be me," He gives me a sly look.

"I think I captured your likeness," I smirk.

"If that's how _I_ sound, then I gotta tell you how you sound," Hans flutters his lashes. "Meu amar, you look so _handsome_ today! Mon cher, mon _fluer_ , chuchote des mots doux."

"How do you know how to say all of that?" I cock a brow.

"Jasper is a pretty good teacher," Hans tells. "He's started giving me a word a day – sometimes a phrase."

"You should show my parents," I enthuse. "Just… maybe not _that_ set of words." I snicker as I give Hans a peck on the forehead. "I should go get ready for today." I pull back and climb out of bed.

"Ja, you're right," Hans sits up. "We wouldn't want to be late for the cows."

…

"You didn't!" Gala gasps at me as we sip our hot beverages in the streets of Casmont, trafficked high and low by a heavy fog and zealous winds, making it difficult to see very far. We stroll quietly, minding our own business as we await the cattle. The festival itself is relatively calm. Everybody stands at the ready for the herd, zest buzzing off of everyone.

"I did," I giggle before I take a sip of my cocoa. "We climbed the old wall and jumped. Well, I jumped first. It's just like when we were kids." I give a shrug. "It was a little higher than I remember."

"I would've thought that Hans would jump first," Gala pinches and re-adjusts my jade coloured, thick wool scarf that snakes around my shoulders and drapes over the crown of my head.

I shake my head. "The poor man was so mad at me. I don't think he'll ever confess it, but I think he's scared of heights," I whisper to my friend. "After yesterday, though, I'm sure he's well past his fear."

"Who knew our tomfoolery as children would prove useful so many years later?"

We stop at the centre of the kingdom, where the fountain has gathered slight frost crystals. Gala and I take a seat on the edge of the colossal feature and spot Jasper assisting an elderly woman who seems to give him a difficult time.

"Non, non, non, _non_!" She stomps her foot declaratively. "We need _only_ red flowers on this doorpost. I don't _care_ how you think they look. They're marvellous just as they are right there." She barks up at Japser who shivers atop a wooden ladder, hands trembling and teeth clattering as he shifts the blossoms in the bone biting breeze.

"Ma'am, th-these red flow-wers are w-wilting," He begins, looking down at the impatient woman below. "Please, at l-least c-c-consider my alternative."

"I didn't become this old by not knowing what I was doing, enfant," points she. "I suggest you _listen_."

Jasper grumbles under his breath as he obeys, tossing aside the purple plants he was going to replace the deflated red flowers with.

Gala and I can't refuse a snicker. "I feel terrible for him," I set down my mug. "Should I say something?"

"No, no," Gala folds one leg over the other. "You heard that woman. She knows what she's doing."

I steal a glance at my smirking friend as she watches Jasper's knees wobble in the wind. "You're enjoying this entirely too much," I laugh.

"Nonsense!" Gala shoves me. "I'm enjoying it the right amount."

"A blind man can see the attraction, Ala," I start. "You're only enjoying this because you want him to be punished for not coming up to you."

"Why would I want that? So he can spin me into a wild romance? I can hardly _stand_ the man," she says, running a hand through her dead straight ebony locks. "The way his laugh is locked in my memory. The way he's _so_ clever and funny without trying. The way he catches all the attention as soon as he enters any room." She tosses a hand at him as he descends. "Look, even when his face is covered with dust and he's scratching his rump, he still looks like a creation of heaven."

I cock a brow. "Are you still trying to disprove that you adore the man?"

"Of course I am! I mean-" Gala gasps. "Oh my goodness," Gala drops her cup on the ground in realization. She gives me a start. "Is this what love feels like?"

"For some I suppose," I kneel down with a grin and begin gathering the shards.

"Don't worry your majesty, I'll handle it," Jasper turns his head at the sound of the clatter of clay. "Gala you need to be more careful." Jasper excuses himself from the older woman and helps me pick up the cup. He rises once we finish and glances at the frozen Gala. His face is a work of confusion as he whispers a question to me. "Is something wrong with her?"

"Oui! Actually, she wanted to take a walk down to the gallery to see some of your papa's art," I start, drawing up my friend and taking the shattered glass from Jasper. "I was going to go with her but _someone_ needs to dispose of all this." I make a display of the cup.

"The gallery?" Gala raises a brow at me, almost confused.

"Well… if you'd like I can show you my first portrait," Jasper speaks up. "I'm not as good at this as my papa, but be gave me some pointers."

"I'd like that," Gala seems (for the first time ever) bashful and quiet. And Jasper the one with initiative. "I mean, if you're comfortable showing me."

Jasper strokes his flying, curly hair once. "I don't mind at all. In fact, I _want_ you to see it. Come."

As they stroll away, Gala gives me a look of thanks and I throw a wink, satisfied and proud of my work. I watch them shrink as they wind down to Jasper's family gallery when a pair of warm hands cover my eyes – totally blinding me.

"Guess who."

"Hmm," I place a hand on the strong wrist of my surprise guest, travelling down his hair strewn arm, free of any goosebumps until I stop at the rolled up sleeve. "I can think of only one man with such a resistance to cold."

"Does that man have a name?" the man kisses the top of my head.

"He does in fact! But his name escapes me," I turn to face my husband and loop my arms around his neck. He's slicked his hair back again for this occasion, and wears a heavy wool purple scarf around his neck. Save for the purple scarf, his garb is all black and close to his skin. "Oh no," I begin. "I can't let my husband see me with you. He'd be green with envy."

Hans smirks at me. "I'm not letting anyone or anything keep me from you."

I bite back a grin, though it slips effortlessly through the cracks. "Me neither."

"Les vaches! Ils arrivent!" comes the voice of a young man, he rings his handbell loudly in notification. "The cows are here! They're coming!" the bouncy haired fair skinned boy runs through the kingdom with the same message we've all been waiting for.

"I think that means the cows are on their way. Come on," Hans takes my hand and we hurry to see the train of cattle. We end up at the entrance where the cows will trickle through just in time to see the first glossy back coloured bull strut through, giving a bellowing moo.

The people around us cheer and toss flower petals at the clunking cattle, whistling and whooping. Out of the corner of my eye I note Gala and Jasper standing together and celebrating the arrival of the herd. The beams on their faces put a warm smile to my face and I release a content sigh. "Hmm."

Hans bumps his arm into me, almost mowing me down. "They look good together."

"They do," I say, my eyes still honed on Gala'a bright smile and the look of whimsy on Jasper as he observes her admirably.

Hans leans down to whisper in my ear whilst still clapping, "But not as good as us." I laugh loudly, my attention now fully on my husband. "Shh. It's our secret." Hans uprights himself and we watch the cows until the last flower crown, copper bell wearing cow has clunked past the entrance. "What a show."

"Yeah, now the party starts."

Hans

The day has drawn on, and by now it's late afternoon or early evening. Food is good, company is better. There are a few painted faces from the start of powdered paint throwing, but I've yet to catch my wife. She's been gone for a good moment. So I've occupied myself with the plentiful food and making my rounds as the new prince.

"Hey, could I buy some powder from you?" I approach a young girl with a basket full of coloured powder. I crouch down to her eyelevel. "How much will it be?" I check my pockets.

She beams brightly and thrusts a packet of orange paint towards me. "It's free for the prince of Casmont."

I huff a laugh and slowly shake my head. "No, I couldn't." I extend a hand full of gold coins. "I'm sure that'll cover the costs and more."

"Thank you!" she blushes as she takes the money and hurries off.

"Now where's that wife of mine?" I turn around, mumbling. Just as I do, I get a whack of purple powder to the face. I double over, and give into a very convincingfake coughing fit.

"Oh, Hans! I'm sorry," I hear Madolen rush over to my side and pat my back as I hack purple powder. "I shouldn't have snuck up on you like that. I-"

"Ha!" I sweep grab Madolen's wrists and splash my own powder on her.

"You _cheated_ ," Madolen laughs, coughing with a face flavoured orange.

"War is never fair is it, my love?" I release her wrists, caressing her plum cheek. "I'm sure you'll forgive me."

"How could I not?" she grins. A band in the centre of the kingdom begins playing a relaxed rhythm. "Dance with me?"

"Always," I put a hand to her waist and take the one of her hands in mine. We begin moving to the slow, smooth music. "Where were you hiding? I couldn't find you for a while."

Madolen smiles, "I was just checking on my parents."

"Haven't they shown up yet?" I glance around the kingdom centre, looking for the couple of mention.

"Not yet," Madolen looks downcast, obviously thinking the worst. "They don't look like they're in good enough condition."

Our dance slows as I lift Madolen's face to mine. "Madolen-"

"They're strong," she cuts, forcing a smile. "They'll be fine. Just fine."

"You don't have to pretend around me," I tell, stopping the dance completely. "I know they'll be fine. They're tougher than you might give them credit for. But if you feel otherwise tell me."

"I'm… sorry. It's just that," Madolen gives an unsure smile. "I'm worried. I have this, this feeling. A gut feeling."

"I feel it too," I tell. "But even so, I _know_ they'll rise above it. We only have a few house of the festival remaining then, we can go see them." My voice grows low. "I just have to figure out a way to distract you until then."

Madolen looks away to hide a smile. "You must think you're _so_ suave, oui? " she looks back up at me with a grin. "That you have me wrapped around your finger and I'm at totally enthralled by you?"

"Aren't you?"

"The jury's still out on that one," Madolen starts. She presses onto her toes to kiss my chin. "But you're winning me over more and more."

Madolen rests her head on my chest as I begin the dance again. We waltz about for a moment, before I spot a well dressed couple waving at groups of thrilled men and women of Casmont. The couple is clearly the king and queen, and their spirits look better than ever. "Don't look now, Madolen, but your day's about to be brightened." Madolen looks up from her rested position and sees her glowing parents as they approach us. They shoot us both grins and Madolen lights up. "What did I tell you?" I smirk. "Look at them. They look brand new."

"Okay, okay," Madolen grins up at me. "You were right. They _do_ look so much better."

The sky grows darker, and even as the thunder reminds us of the storm's nearness, everything feels right. All feels as it should be. I find myself glancing down at Madolen, fixated on her for one reason or the other. "Do you think we'll be like your parents?" she cocks a brow at me. "Complimentary and contradictory."

"Do you wanna be like them?"

"I want any future with you in it," I say. "Whether we're at each other's throats, or always touching."

"Isn't that selfish?" Madolen presses closer to me. "If we were always arguing, we shouldn't be stranded with each other. We should be free to pursue what we _really_ want."

"I've never been one to give up on what I _really_ want," I say. I run my hand up and down Madolen's back. "And I really want you."

Madolen and I lock eyes intensely. "How much?"

"So much," I tell.

Madolen smiles. "Then, I really want you so much more." She leans in towards me, but is stopped by the sudden, heavy fall of rain. "This storm has great timing." Grumbles she.

All round me, people are befuddled or disappointed. I clear my throat before addressing the,. "Everybody get to your homes as soon as you can," I order. "If we predicted right, we have only a few hours before the chaos begins. You'll receive further orders from us later."

Echoes of agreement are a response as I take Madolen's hand and head up the hill. "It was good while it lasted." Jokes she. "Now the games begin."

I smile at Madolen. "Don't worry, elskede. I'll do all I can to help Casmont." I tighten my grip on her hand. "On my honour."

A/N: Alrighty folks. I did say that these few chapters just need to be out of the way, and they are officially out of the way. The wheels start turning in the next chapter! Take care!


	11. Chapter 10

A/N: Hi all! So this chapter is gonna be a bit short, but it's because of the content. I made it short because I don't wanna share the events of tis chapter with the events of the next.

Disclaimer: I do not own Frozen or the Frozen franchise.

Hans

"Madolen. Madolen, please come out."

I stand at the door of Madolen's old bedroom, waiting for her answer. All I hear are soft sobs. The sound of rain is heavy against the walls of the now grey castle. The long, empty, corridor I'm standing in seems to make the occasion even worse - showing that we've still a long way to recovery.

I hear footsteps approaching. In the sound of the quiet, they sound like drums in my ears.

The elderly pope who wed Madolen and I stops at my side, a leather book that challenges him in age in hand. He opens it up to a page full of shaky yet straight lines. "I stayed up all night preparing this. I await only your approval."

"Thank you," I take it with a small smile.

"Of course," says he, his greying brown eyes sorrowful as he proceeds. "How fairs the queen to be?"

I sigh, nodding to the dark wood door I'm in front of. "Not well I'm afraid. She's in there and she won't come out."

Pastor Clemens nods in understanding. "It's a dark time for all of Casmont. If she doesn't feel better after today, we can postpone the coronation. We do not want such a heavy crown put on an already frail heart."

"I understand," I nod. "I will do my best to strengthen her spirits. Casmont needs us to be strong now more than ever."

"You speak the truth, Your Highness," says Clemens, placing a shaky hand on my shoulder. "I will see you in two days for the service." He weakly squeezes my shoulder before wobbling on back the way he came.

I rap at the door, "Since you don't wanna come out, I'll come in there. Fair enough?"

Madolen stops her crying and finally I receive a reply. "…Okay." Footfalls approach the door before the lock shifts in it. Then, I hear footsteps return deeper into the room.

I gently open the door and see Madolen lying in the middle of her bed with her face buried in a pillow and her arms wrapped tightly around said pillow. "I'm very sorry, Madolen." I start, not sure if I should come any closer. Madolen mumbles something into her pillow, but I can't quite make it out. "What is it, elskede?" I lean forward to better hear her.

"Please shut the door," she lifts her face off of the pillow a moment to speak.

I do as told before stepping into the dim room. I take a seat on the edge of the bed and set pastor Clemens' book on the bedside table. I look over at Madolen's wracking form as she wails and my mouth stretches to a frown. I weave my fingers into her unusually free hair, rubbing my thumb along her head. "You can always speak to me."

She shakes her head. "It _h-hurts_ to even think about it." Madolen sniffs loudly.

"It doesn't hurt for nothing, Madolen. Chances are that it hurts because you're healing," I say lowly. "You can't let it sit in there forever."

Madolen seems to cry louder as she shakes her head again. "I… I don't… I c-can't-"

"Shh, it's okay," I tell. "Take it easy. I'm not trying to push you, I just don't want you to push me away. I need to know what's going on with you. We need to get through this together, right?"

Madolen slowly nods, "Mmhhmm."

I swing my legs onto the bed and recline my back against the headrest. I close my eyes as I stroke Madolen's back, noting how her breathing steadies at the touch. The king and queen were making a good recovery, but it didn't last. News was shared just a day after the Cow Train that they'd passed on in their sleep. Their demeanours moment before they'd died betrayed no signs of illness. They were laughing and dancing and joking like one would expect them to. For them to die so suddenly, so abruptly, so unusually – it was a stab in the heart. It is a stab in the heart. Madolen took it the worst, but no one can tell why - other than the obvious reasons. She grieves as if she's done more than lost her parents.

"Hans." I look back down to Madolen at her calling. I see that she's rotated so that she's lying on her side and facing me, big bloodshot eyes screaming ruin. "I feel like my heart is imploding, and taking everything inside of me with it."

I cock my head to the side, gesturing for Madolen to come closer. She ambles over and rests her head on my lap, her forehead nestled into my stomach. "It's only normal to feel like you do, Madolen," I grip her arm. "I don't like seeing you like this, but I know you need to go through all these things to recover."

"I don't think I'll ever come close to recovery."

"It feels like that now, I know," I take a deep breath, steadying my own emotions. "But you move forward, elskede. Even though you never move past it."

Looking down at Madolen, I can tell she's hesitant to share something. She nibbles on her lower lip a while before speaking, gazing up at me. "What if it was my fault?"

"What do you mean?" I question, confused at such a statement, but putting forward a kind face.

"I don't know," she begins. "I just feel like I gave them the disease. I got sick and I made them that cake, and they ate it, and now…"

"I ate that cake too, Madolen," I tell.

"But you're basically immune to everything," Madolen adds. "And it might not even just be the cake. It might be me interacting with them as a whole."

"But you're not sick anymore," I tighten my grasp on Madolen's hand. "It can't have been anything your parents couldn't handle."

"It's just too much of a coincidence to be untrue," she sniffs. "I won't be able to live with myself if I had any part to play in this."

"You didn't, Madolen," I cup her cheek.

"Then what happened?" her eyes begin to brim with tears again.

"They got sick, elskede. Maybe, just _maybe_ , you gave them your sickness," I start, "but you _didn't_ kill them." Madolen nestles into my stomach and I cradle her. "Don't beat yourself up like this. You _just_ lost your parents, Madolen. You don't need to hurt yourself any more."

Madolen wipes her eyes. "I don't…. I don't know what I'm gonna do without them." She shrugs. "I don't know how to live with them gone."

"Madolen, look at me." Madolen props herself up to sit with crossed legs next to me. I take her hand, gazing intensely into her eyes. "We move forward together. We'll just take it a day at a time. We don't need to figure everything out right away, alright?"

A sad smile fights to shine on Madolen's face and she nods quickly. "Okay," her breath shakes her words. "Together."

"Always, elskede," I tighten my grip on her hand.

Madolen throws her arms around me and buries her face in my neck. "Oh, Hans," she gently clenches a fist full of my hair and pressing as close to me as she can. "What would I do without you?" Madolen's frenetic shuddering relaxes as I gather her into a warm hold.

"You're a prodigious woman, Madolen," I offer a slight smile. "You'll be fine."

"I don't feel all that amazing."

"Then I'll make it my job to remind you every day," I softly kiss the side of Madolen's head.

Madolen 

That weekend, the ceremony takes place. We all gathered in the cathedral early in the day to honour Ma and Da. Pastor Clemens prepared a great speech that drove tears in every eye. All of that is okay. It's fine. But this is the scary part – the burial. That's the end of it, you can't deny your situation any longer once you see the depths in the ground. You can't pretend it isn't real any longer once you see the mounds of dirt where the gaping holes in the ground once were.

"Would the prince and princess care to share a few words?" questions pastor Clemens, drawing me out of my mind of woe.

The rain falls lightly on the old man as we stand outside on the east islands, where the Fields have a section exclusively for royal burial. The weather runs with thunder and lightning, but it slows us not.

Hans takes my hand and leads me to the open graves in the green grass, a section for my parents surrounded by the massive congregation that's come out to pay condolences. The. Deep into the ground lay my parent's shiny black coffins, flowers of all sorts deposited atop them. The congregation looks to us for words to say, and Hans tightens his clasp on my hand in an encouraging manner as we turn to face the crowd that surrounds us on all sides.

"In the short time that I knew the king and queen they showed me nothing but kindness and grace," Hans starts. "They were parents to me as I'm sure they were parents to Casmont. I'd enjoy having tea with the Queen Nancy and hearing King Wiatt tell me about the great Raphael of Casmont. In the rushed weeks I shared with them I've never felt more honoured…" Hans steadies my breathing. "They've left a strong kingdom behind. Surely this strong kingdom won't be left behind. On my honour, I shall work to keep Casmont as it was before. And with Madolen, we shall improve it." I pat Hans on the back gently as he finishes his speech, his throat clearly throbbing with feeling. "I wish I had more time with them. They struck me with inspiration and admiration."

"Thank you, Your Highness," says Pastor Clemens. He looks to me, awaiting my speech.

I focus my attention on the congregation around me and smile weakly. "When I got the news, I was angry. I was in denial. But in the end, I understood and accepted it. I'm not happy about the death of the king and queen, as I'm sure is the case with most of you. I wished they'd lived on longer. Much, much longer." I meet eyes with Gala who's in the arms of Jasper, both garbed in total black, as is expected. Gala's eyes are bloodshot to match mine, and Jasper's features tremble as he fights to be strong. "But the mark of greatness is taking what's given to you and empowering yourself and others with it – good or bad. I'm not saying we shouldn't grieve – grieve. But we grieve knowing that this is the time for sorrow and a time for jubilance will return." Hans puts an arm around my shoulder as I proceed. "Although I'll miss my parents and all the love they gave to me, and all the love they gave to Casmont, I know they didn't leave without making us all capable to power through and honour them with our victory against the storm. And centuries afterwards."

Different nods and looks of agreement are given to us and Pastor Clemens gives a nod to the men tasked with the job of burial. "Thank you, your Majesties. Your words are much appreciated."

As the men begin refilling the holes behind us, I watch them with a mixture of feelings. Once those chasms fill up it'll be that much real and official – my parents are dead. And there's no changing that or how they died. Never in my life did I predict a life without my parents. As unrealistic as it sounds to envision a life with your parents in it forever, it seemed more realistic than them passing so suddenly. So unusually.

Perhaps noting my deep thoughts, Hans whispers to me. "You'll be okay, Madolen. I assure you."

"I will." I force a brave smile and look up to Hans. "I assure me too." Hans and I walk through the parting crowd to the carriage that took us up to the Graves. Jasper waits with a forlorn look for us.

"Your carriage," he sweeps the door open. I stop short at the sight of him. His olive face is painted red at the eyes and the nose from episodes of sadness no doubt. His bright eyes meet mine for a moment before I throw my arms around him in a caring grasp. "I'm very sorry, my Queen."

"I'm very sorry too, Jasper," I say, increasing the embrace. I pull away with a courageous smile of strength and step into the carriage. As I shimmy into my seat I see Hans and Jasper sharing a hug of their own before he joins me inside.

"You did very well, Madolen," Hans takes my hand. "You're stronger that you look."

I smile. "Thank you, Hans. I couldn't do it without you."

Hans kisses my hand covered with a sleek black glove, as is the rest of me. My bottleneck dress has long sleeves and ends under my ankle, loosely holding me on the way down there. Hans is draped in ebony trousers and boots with a matching blazer and button up shirt – the blazer embellished with all matter of medals and awards. "You could." His majestic eyes lock with mine, his fair face showing that he himself as been battling with emotions. "You could." He nods.

My smile grows. "You look like you could use a hug."

"Maybe I do," Hans wipes a hand through his tamed mane. "Hold me and we'll find out."

I enfold Hans in my embrace and he returns the favour. "I think you definitely needed it."

Hey, guys! Thanks for reading thus far. I hope you enjoyed it and I'll see you all again when I see you all gain.


	12. Chapter 11

A/N: Hi there, guys! I'm quite late, sorry! I hope though that all is well with you lot and that you enjoy and let me know what you think! I will be finishing this fanfic though, and hopefully before this time next year.

Disclaimer: I do not own Frozen or the Frozen franchise.

Madolen

I wake to the smell of soap and hot air. Tightening my face I stretch my form. After a moment of tension, I give my eyes permission to open, and I see Hans fastening buttons on his grey trousers, back facing me. He throws a look over his shoulder, he offers a soft look.

"Oh," he focuses again on his trousers, "I'm sorry that I woke you." He steps towards me and leans over the bed to kiss my temple. "Morning."

"Hej," I breathe softly.

"How are you?" Han's intense eyes hone in on my own.

I shrug. "Still devastated," I fabricate a grin. "How are you?"

"In… need of a distraction," Hans strokes a thumb over my cheek, eyeing me with focus before he springs off of the bed and stands. "I thought I'd go hunting today." Hans busies himself with tucking his leaking pockets back into their homes.

"W-what?"

Hans looks over his shoulder as he replies. "I said I'd go hunting today. The weather is rather grey, but a little rain isn't so threatening."

I sit up against the cushy headboard, watching my husband with newfound interest as he dresses. "I didn't realize you liked to hunt."

"I don't really," Hans says, searching in the 4:00am light for his boots. "But Lars and I would hunt when he had time."

I bundle the covers in my fists and gather them up to my clavicle. "Will you take me?"

"Are you sure you wanna come?" Hans wriggles into a black long sleeve shirt.

"Were you planning to go alone?"

"I was, but I'd love to take you if you'd like to come," Hans turns to face me. "I didn't think you'd be interested. You don't seem the hunting type."

"I'm not," I start, "I just wanted to get away from the castle a little." I cast my gaze sideways. "Too many memories in this labyrinth. You know?"

After a moment of staring, Hans nods. "I know, elskede. I'll gladly distract you."

"Merci. I appreciate it."

"This is a um… interesting activity," I trudge in the sloshy mud from the downpour that still insists on joining us on our hunting trip. Hans gives me a considerate grin as he waits for me to catch up to him, on the edge of the forest.

"It's more enjoyable on a sunny day," tells he.

"I find it hard to believe," I reach Hans and he nods to the thick woods, darkened by the lack of sun.

"Are you ready?" He tugs on my slouching hat that blocks out most of the rain.

"I think I am," I nod. "I'll follow your lead."

"Very well," Hans takes the lead into the brush and he stalks quietly in the lightless, grey looking forest. "Try to look out for pheasant or emus," says Hans softly as he treads with light feet through the sludge of mud and forest life.

"How can you see anything in these conditions?" I pinch my eyes against the rain, shivering at the wind that dances with it. "I can hardly see you."

Hans smiles at me fondly, "Maybe give your sight a break," Hans' wet but warm hand takes my own in a firm hold. "Listen." He stops in the middle of the woods and I step up beside him.

I sit still for a moment, but can't hear anything more than the rain and the threat of a thunderstorm. "I don't hear anything."

"I'm sure you hear _lots_ of things, Madolen," Hans comes to stand in front of me. "Close your eyes and _listen_. It comes easily to some, I had only a little trouble learning to analyse my environments based on my senses. Lars almost can't do it. Agnes could do it right away." He smiles at me. "Try to single out a sound." In the natural light of the forest, I see the bags that have formed under Hans' eyes from what I gather is signs of grief. How hunting helps him get over death still eludes me.

"Alright," I breathe. I shut my eyes and try to narrow the scope of what I'm listening to. Face locked in concentrated creases, I struggle to do what seems a simple task. Distress must be evident in my face, because when I try to give up, Hans stops me. "Hans-"

"Shh," Hans shushes. "Just focus, elskede. They're there."

"Okay, okay," I nod, taking in another deep breath to slow my breathing. One by one, the sounds of croaking frogs and whispering wind and running rain die out, leaving only a sound I haven't ever heard, but logic causes me to deduce what it is. "I think I hear pheasant." I open my eyes and meet with Hans. "Do you hear that?"

"Hear what?"

"It's a funny sound," I start. "It sounds sort of like a 'crre, crre, crre'."

Hans snickers at me, "I heard it, elskede," starts he. "I just wanted to hear you saying it."

I playfully punch Hans on the shoulder. "Where's it coming from?"

"Likely down this way," Hans tugs me with him into the heart of the wild. "We don't wanna scare the little guy away, so we should try to tread lightly."

"He's likely on the ground, it's still too early for them to roost."

"That's right," Hans stops again. "See that?" he points to the ground at scratchy steps in the dirt that look like the bird of mention. "We're onto him." Hans pulls me along again.

I can't refuse a frown at how close we're getting to killing a poor animal as a means of entertainment. "Maybe we should wait until the weather clears," I say. "I mean, we'll be wasting fire if we miss because of these turbulent conditions."

"Nonsense," Hans stops behind a tree. "I've hunted in far worse weather for far smaller creatures and come back victorious." Hans unslings his gun. "Besides, we're already here." As he gets to work checking over his riffle he nods beyond the thick tree base we shelter behind. "Take a look."

I peer around the tree trunk to see a long tailed pheasant wandering around. "It seems that we are," I say softly. When I turn back to Hans he's got his rifle at the ready on the other side of the trunk, sights honed on the poor pheasant. I find it hard to keep myself from saying something, but stick to it. It was I who asked to join in on this trip in the first place. I don't really have any right to muck it up now.

"This is gonna be very loud, Madolen," starts Hans. "I suggest you cover your ears."

I hurry to fold my forearms over my ears and shut my eyes just in time.

 _BANG!_

For a moment, all the critters that were doing their own critter business go dead silent, almost as if offering quiet for the seemingly deceased bird. One eye opens before the other follows and I see Hans sling his firearm back on his shoulder, a look of triumph blossoming slowly on his face.

"Just as I said, elskede," Hans takes my hand and hauls me along towards the smell of gunpowder. "I'm an excellent shot, rain or shine."

I feign a smile, "Well done, amar." We reach the still body of the red and bronze beauty and Hans begins muttering to himself about the condition of the bird. "You're really in your element…"

Hans casts a long look my way before giving an open grin. "I am, elskede. Would you rather I wasn't?"

"No, I," I sigh, rifling to find words. I look down at Hans as he squats down to the body. "Do you really enjoy this slaughter?"

Hans gives me a patient look. "As much as you enjoy the slaughter of cattle. You do like steak, don't you?"

"It's not the same," I shake my head.

"You're right about that," Hans rises from his squatted position. "Elskede, I'm not breeding pheasant for food. I'm not farming emus knowing that their fates are sealed as lunch. What I'm doing is coming out to free animals and hunting." Hans glances at me. "I'd say I'm doing the more humane thing. And I'd say the only slaughter being done is on farms."

I feel warm with embarrassment. "I… I'm sorry," I give an apologetic smile. "I guess you're right. I didn't mean to spoil anything."

Hans wraps an arm around my shoulders, drawing me to his chest. "You haven't spoiled anything," He tightens his embrace on me. "I've said it before and I'll say it again 'all you do is make things better'."

I sigh contentedly, a smile stretching on my lips. "I appreciate you taking me out with you," I start. "All I've been able to do is think of my parents, and not the way they'd want."

"It's incredibly early," says Hans. "You're probably going to think that way for a while. But you'll release the anger, elskede. Just take it a day at a time."

I give a sad laugh, "You're gonna have to help me with that." I sniff as I wrap my arms around Hans' back.

"You can rely on me," Hans tells.

I look up at him with a grin, "And you me."

Hans kisses the top of my head. "While we're out here, elskede, maybe I could teach you to fire a rifle."

I give a soft huff of a laugh, "I don't know if I can. I don't want to hurt you while I'm learning."

"You'll do fine, Madolen," he laughs. "Come, let me cock the gun." He pulls away from me and cocks the gun with a sharp 'cl-crk'. I give Hans a wide girth in cause things go awry. "You wanna hold it like so," Hans puts the butt of the hunting rifle in the pocket of his right shoulder. His left hand forming a 'v' shape between his thumb and forefingers that hold the handguard. "Line up your shot with a steady form, make sure you're grounded, and shoot."

 _BANG_!

I wince, and jump back a little. Hans shot a branch off of a tree before us.

"You think I can do _that_?" I smile politely, gesturing at the clean shot. 

"No," Hans cocks the gun again. "I _know_ you can do that. Maybe even better." He places the gun in my small hands and comes up behind me. "Firmly grasp the handguard." I shift the sleek, wooden arm in my hands until the fingers on my left hand curl around my handguard. "That's right, elskede, your fingers should naturally clench it." Hans' voice is soft in my ear. "You want the butt of your gun here. You want it in the pocket of your shoulder so that the force goes into your body and not your shoulder or clavicle. I wouldn't want anything to happen to you." I chuckle as I readjust the gun so that it sits where Hans said. "Line up your shot before you put your finger on the trigger. You've got to be ready. Find a target."

I nod gently. "Okay." I aim for the branch bellow Hans' and take a moment to steady my aim. "I'm ready."

 _BANG!_

A thrust of force pushes me back slightly as I shoot. Hans acts as a failsafe in case the force proved too much.

"Well what do you know?" Hans grins. "You're a natural, elskede."

I look back to the branch and find it hanging from the tree no more. "Did you see that?" I beam. "I actually fired a riffle and _hit_ my target!"

"I have a knack for being right," Hans somehow finds a way to make this about him. I stick my tongue out at him, still elated from my success. "You did a great job, Madolen. Really good."

"Can, can I go again?"

"I love the enthusiasm, Madolen, but we _should_ get the gun out of the rain," Hans squeezes my shoulders apologetically. "When the rain gives us a break, we'll come back and you can fire all the rounds you'd like."

"Are you certain that's what you want?" Hettie questions, her motherly eyes on me.

I nod once before sipping my hot cocoa. "Hans and I think it'll be best if we wait a while before we get coronated." I set my cocoa down on the plush red carpeting and scoot closer to the large stone fireplace that harbours a zesty flame. "I know we're pressed to be crowned, and we will. Just in time."

Hettie gives me a soft grin, "I understand, dear." She takes a deep breath, seated atop her armchair that gives a good girth to the fire. "I trust your judgement."

"Thank you, Hettie," I give an appreciative smile, searching Hettie's tired face. "Are you managing okay?"

"Don't worry about an old woman like me," says she. "I'm strong enough to be alive and well – even in such a tragedy."

"I miss them too, Hettie," I give a sad smile, shutting my eyes and pressing them tight at the emphasised words I speak next. "And I'll miss them _forever_ and _ever_." I open my eyes, head shaking slowly. "And ever."

"Me too," Hettie surrenders a tear that she quickly dabs away, eyes to the ceiling. She clears her throat. "But I know they've left us in capable hands, and I know you're a tough lady. And a smart lady. And you'll do what is right."

I nod. "I shall, Hettie. I assure you that I'll do my best always. I owe it to you and I owe it to my parents."

"It puts me at ease to hear you say that."

"It's my job, and I job I take great joy in," I smile. "We'll get over this dark cloud."

Hettie grins. "You can always rely on me for help."

I nod. "I know, and I'm glad. You've always been like a second mother to me, Hettie."

"It wasn't easy sometimes, love," she laughs. "You were a difficult child at times."

"What do you mean?" I chuckle.

Hettie smiles. "I'll let you find out when you have kids of your own someday."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means prepare yourself for assertion and rebellion and _fussiness,_ " she sips her cocoa. "But I'll let you in on the secrets in raising a meddlesome child."

"What about Hans? He might've been a naughty child," I tell. "It might not be my genes."

"Well then maybe your kid will be too much for the both of us to manage," Hettie jeers.

"Then let's hope that he was an angel."

Hans 

"Underneath or over?" Madolen mumbles to herself.

"What're you making?" I settle into bed next to Madolen who fiddles with some dark green yarn, making what looks like a scarf. I wrap my arms around her just below the waist and nestle neck into her side.

"I'm _trying_ to make a scarf," she shrugs. "I wanted to make Gala and Jasper matching scarves as a gift, and to brighten their spirits. I don't know if it'll be any good."

I chuckle lowly, "They'll just be happy that you were thinking of them, elskede."

"Oui, that's true," she strokes my hair fondly. "Hans, you… you never really tell me about how you were as a kiddie," says she, a soft look on me.

"What do you want to know?" I rub my thumb against her. "I'll tell you."

"Tell me what stood out," Madolen resumes her knitting. "The highlights of your life."

"I started catching cod with my bare hands at three years old," I mumble.

"What spurred that?"

"My mother said I was a brave child," I start. "I guess I wanted to be brave."

"Anything else?"

"I grew very close to horses. I can't tell you when exactly, but I found them to be solace," I sigh. "Riding off to relieve my stress. It was a way to connect with another being and escape… home."

Madolen sets her project down and rubs a thumb over my eyebrow. "I wish we'd know each other sooner. I'd have bailed you out whenever I could. I'd have tried to make life easier on you."

I smile, eyes shut. "I don't know if it would've been the best of men if you'd met me then."

"Who's to say I couldn't have fixed that?"

"…You've got me there. But you shouldn't have to fix me," I tighten my grasp on her. "But thank you."

"Sure," she breathes. "Now, can I get into bed comfortably to catch some shuteye?"

"There's a toll, elskede," I grin cheekily. "Nothing's for free in this world."

Madolen laughs loudly. "If you think I'm paying a toll to sleep comfortably in my own bed, then I'm afraid you'll have to think again."

"I think I can sleep comfortably like this without a qualm," I say, my grin growing greater. "And I think _you_ can't."

Madolen laughs again, wiping her hands over her face. "Fine, fine, just let me get into bed you tyrant."

There it is. Sorry that it took so long, guys. Hope you enjoyed it and I look forward to the next publish! Take care!


	13. Chapter 12

A/N: Hi guys! Hope you're all doing super. I surprised myself by busting out another chapter but I hope it catches you at a good time. I want to shout out to my reviewers and readers. I appreciate you all heaps and heaps! You're awesome.

There are some Danish and French words and phrases but you're not new to most of them. The ones that are newcomers will be explained in the chapter as usual, but here are a few meaning that I didn't put in there.

To kan spille på dette spil: two can play at that game

Tal til mig: talk to me.

Madolen

It's been a handful of weeks since the sordid passing of my parents, and things are starting to move. As much as there still remains a dark cloud over the whole of Casmont, the storm vies for our attention.

"Jasper says that the farmers _just_ got out of there in the nick of time," Gala strokes the jade coloured scarf that I made for her a while back, Jasper's one in her other hand. "The wind was blinding, the air carried frost, and thunder and lightning made it difficult to guide the horses back down to the mainland."

I frown, leaning against the wall of the kitchen and stroking Fabrice who snoozes on my shoulder. "There were no casualties?"

"Non… not yet at least," Gala sighs as she fills one of the flowered vases with water before setting it down. She come to my side. "I overheard that there are many injuries… some that threaten to kill with time."

"Have they been admitted to the doctor?"

"They have, but there's only so much we can do," Gala frowns with me. "This blasted storm may kill us all if this keeps up."

"Non, I _won't_ let that happen," I declare. "We've already lost too much, and I'll be damned if we lose anymore."

Gala's face brightens with a grin. "I believe you, Madolen. I do."

"Good," I smile. "Thank you, Gala, for sharing this. It'll give us direction regarding what to do next. Hans and I have a meeting with the chief of farming, the chief of physicians and the chief of livestock."

"You called a meeting that fast?"

"After the chaotic show that the storm put on yesterday it seemed only right," I tell. "And given what you've told me, we were right to call it." I thrust myself off of the wall, startling Fabrice out of his slumber. "I should go. I don't want to be late for the very meeting I called."

"We don't want that," Gala smiles. "Good luck, Madolen."

Hans

Madolen enters the Council Area and greets us all with a beam. "I'm not late I hope."

"Nein, actually we were just about to start," says Hannah, a sun kissed, serious eyed woman in her early thirties. Her dark hair is roped back to add to her already solemn demeanour that sets the tone for the day. She stands with arms behind her back at the long side of the table.

"I hear from Gala that the farmers suffered injuries," says Madolen as she sits down next to me at the head of the sleek table.

"I'm afraid so," tells Spencer, the chief physician, across from Hannah. "I've done what I can to make them comfortable, but a slew of them aren't in a good enough condition to return to work." His dark brown eyes meet mine and Madolen's. "And most of them with benign injuries are horrified of the idea of going back to the Fields."

"Then we move the Fields here," I tell. "We'll have to stomach food that may not taste as good as if it were grown in the Fields, but it's food."

"With all due respect, my Prince, we've yet to receive the crops and seedlings from the Southern Isles," Hannah says. "We've nothing to plant."

"That's more of an advantage than a detriment," I say. "We have _time_ to prepare every household garden for farming. We'll need to have a similar structure of tenting the plants to keep them frost free."

"I'll see to it that it gets done," Hannah nods before making a swift exit.

"Back to the topic of hurt farmers," Madolen begins. "Do you need anything to help the healing process? You say that there are many patients."

Spencer grimaces, "I fear we may not even need to treat them. Already a handful of those admitted have died from their injuries." He looks down forlornly. "I will do all I can for the remainder."

Jakob, chief of livestock speaks up beside Spencer. "In light of the tragedy, I have some good news." The wood skinned dark haired man speaks. "The spawning of the fish is peaking. We have plenty. The sharks are still nowhere to be found, and the movement of implementing a net to keep them away is almost at a close. Fishing is very strong." Jakob runs a hand through his coils of hair. "Although I must admit that the livestock could use some more feed. The feed was ruined last night. The barn where we store it was all but destroyed in the winds of the storm."

"We'll give them the ruined crops," Madolen tells. "From the Fields. It should hold down the fort until we manage to either grow or import some more feed."

Jakob nods, "I'll inform the fishermen and woman right away." He gives a curt bow before taking leave of his own.

"Your Majesties," Spencer gives a bow of his own before striding out of the Council area.

Madolen releases a sigh besides me. "It's crazy how all this happened in the span of a few hours."

I nod. "Although, it _was_ relatively calm before this chaos began. We should take note of how the hail and thunder and lightning take a breather before they roar."

"I don't think the storm's done roaring just yet," Madolen gives a sad smile. "But we've made it this far." She looks to me with interest. "When did your family say that the shipment might arrive?"

I take her cold hand, "We won't have to wait too much longer. Two weeks more at the most. And for the time being, we'll live off a fish based diet – which isn't half as bad as it sounds."

Madolen's smile turns genuine. "Says the squid eater."

"You laugh but one gets very creative with seafood," I bob my head to the side and grin with a fond memory. "And I suppose there was a pride factor involved as well. Sometimes I'd ride out to calm rivers or lakes and catch some cod, get a fire going and waste time dreaming. Or talking to my horse." I huff a laugh.

"You mention this horse a lot," starts Madolen. "What was his name?"

"Sitron," I say. "Sitron _is_ his name. He's still alive and kicking, I just… didn't bring him. That's likely to change."

"I'd be glad to meet him," Madolen squeezes my hand tightly with a sweet grin on her before she stands. "I think I may have to go see Spencer. I… have some questions about the injured, and my parents. I didn't have the courage to ask until now."

"Do you want me to join you?" I stand, ready to leave if needed.

Madolen promptly shakes her head. "Don't worry about it, Jasper already agreed to take me." She smiles brightly at me. "I'll let you know how it went."

"Please do, elskede." Madolen puts her hands on my shoulders and presses a quick kiss to my cheek, before she begins her walk to the Hospital.

Madolen

"Your Majesty, Jasper," Spencer greets me and Jasper as we enter the Hospital, gloved hands bloodied. "To what do I owe this pleasure?"

"Um, I wanted to know just how many men and women you have here that still need care," I begin. Spencer nods slowly as I speak. "And I wanted to know about my parents."

"Of course, my Princess," Spencer cocks his head towards a set of stairs that lead up to the patients from the foyer we're in. "Follow me."

"Can I bring my cockatiel?' I ask before we move, pointing at my perched Fabrice.

"That's fine, as long as he stays put," Spencer says.

Soon we're stomping up the stairs and we reach the second floor. It's littered with men and women that rest on their respective hospital beds groaning respective groans. I see a set of stairs in the back of the room. "Does that lead to even more of them?" I question.

"I'm afraid so," Spencer sighs. "Right now you caught me finishing up a swamp of stitching up wounds. There's still more to be done, but once I've done that, bacteria may set in. The wounds may begin to fester and undo all I've done." He speaks softly so that no patients hear of the upsetting news. "The orchards have brought in citrus, which I use to sterilise wounds where I can. But we're running out and I'll have to start rationing more and more. Even then, I fear that this is food better used as food for the hungry instead of disinfectant for those who are most likely not going to make it."

I nod with understanding. "…Hannah needs to know about this."

"I'll relay the message," Jasper speaks up. "So long as you do all you can, doctor. These are good men and women in here."

Spencer nods. "I'm bound by my honour." He looks to me, "As for the matter of our… late King and Queen, what would you like to know?" the fair haired man has deflated.

"Doctor, they… they were getting better weren't they?" I give a hapless smile, trying to feign bravery. "The day before they died, they weren't spectacular, but they managed the strength to get out of bed."

"Let's discuss this in my office," Spencer pulls off his gloves and gestures that Jasper and I follow. Jasper takes my hand empathetically and we follow. We pass by a number of people before reaching a door I never noticed before stamped on one of the walls. Spencer holds it open and shuts it as soon as we all enter. "Your Majesty, please understand that what I'm about to say, I say with no ill intentions. I only say this as a physician who's addressing a concern."

"Oui, I understand that," I nod.

"Alright," Spencer proceeds. "The king and queen may have quickened their death by persisting in their efforts to be involved and active. They should've been bedded and fed and monitored. The only activity that they'd need in such a state is to step out of bed and stretch."

I take a breath, "But they passed so suddenly."

"Oui, they're bodies might've reached their limit," Spencer tells. "It was a very aggressive disease they were ensnared in. They were lucky to even live _that_ long. I've never seen anything like it before."

The thought pops back into my head that I was sick too, around the same times that my parents were sick. In fact, before they were sick. I could've given them whatever I had. "Doctor, I think I may have something to do with it."

Jasper tightens his grasp on my hand, "No, Madolen. You didn't."

"Non, you, you don't understand," I look to Spencer. "I was sick. And after that my parents got sick. And then they died. That's too much a coincidence for me to just be dreaming it up."

"What were the symptoms of your illness?" Spencer looks at me with interest.

"I was fatigue and sore," I say, convicted. "I had headaches and sometimes even a fever. All the same symptoms my parents had."

"And you're better now?" Jasper questions.

I sigh, "Well, no. When they died it started calming. But now I feel those symptoms again."  
"When did these ailments start?" Spencer takes a piece of paper and a sleek pen to jot down some notes.

"I think the week of Almabtrieb," I say.

"Have you experienced any additional problems?" Spencer asks.

"No," I shake my head.

"When was the last time you menstruated?" Spencer stops scribbling to look at me.

"Well, I've been so stressed lately that I haven't since Almabtrieb," I tell. "But this has happened before that I've been late. Many times. When I was fifteen, it was a stressful year and I missed three months. I've never been irregular, but during stress I've missed some cycles."

"Mmhmm," Spencer nods, "I remember that. But you weren't married then, Princess."

"Madolen, are you pregnant?" Jasper cocks a brow of intrigue.

"Non, I'm not pregnant," I say. "….I'm not, am I?" I glance at Spencer.

"Well, you've been sore, fatigue and going months without menstruation," Spencer has a smile on his face. "I'd say you are. And I'd say that's why you've been feeling so sick."

"Are you sure?" I question, not sure if I'm ready to believe it to be true.

Spencer laughs. "Well, I have a big hunch. I've seen my share of pregnant women and women trying to get pregnant and what you're describing sounds like early pregnancy to me. I speculate that you may have conceived a month ago. You'll be vomiting all over the place soon if you are pregnant so in about two weeks, we should know for sure."

"Wow, Madolen, a baby!" Jasper muses. "I never would've thought you'd be a mother. You're just so…" Jasper struggles for word. "You."

I smile. "Gee, thanks." My hand wanders to my stomach, mind racing at the thought of what's going on in there. "Doctor… how sure are you?"

"99.9 percent sure," says Spencer." Your parents were tougher than the average man and woman. Whatever took their lives would've taken yours too if you ever had it. The symptoms you've had are more often than not related to pregnancy, and I'll tell you now you're giving me vibes of a mother to be. I've been in this line of work for twenty years. Just me saying that you're pregnant is enough to confirm it."

I grin at Spencer. "Okay. Thank you. Merci." I nod once, finally allowing myself to familiarize myself with the situation. "Merci."

"How do you feel?" Jasper questions as we stroll back towards the castle.

"Different," I say, willing myself against touching my stomach any more. "Very different."

"A good different or….?"

"It's bittersweet," I shrug. "I never thought about children. I had the next forty years of my life planned out and children didn't feature in it. But… now that I'm most likely gonna have a baby, I'm excited. I'm upset that Ma and Da aren't here for the baby…" Jasper puts an arm of comfort around my shoulders, rubbing his thumb up and down my arm. Fabrice, hops off of my shoulder and flutters beside us as we walk. "I'm frustrated, actually, that I'm pregnant right now. I feel stupid that I've put myself in a position that I'll be swelling up during this hard time." I begin speaking with my hands as I realize the gravity of the situation. "And I'm a bit worried that once I'm done having this baby… Hans will want another enfant right afterwards."

"You don't want that?"

"Not as much as he does," I say. "A baby is a big responsibility and I don't wanna have to juggle two. Even then he'd still want another one. We bargained that we should have our first baby before we worry about any more kids."

"How many more kids are we talking?"

"A dozen," I say. "That's what he wants." I look up at Jasper, a tall chap, his coils of brunette hair pulled away from his face with an Alice band. "Jasper, I can't have that many children."

"Well…" Jasper looks away and clears his throat. "The man _does_ come from a large family. Perhaps he wants to replicate some of that."

I hold back from telling Jasper about Hans' neglect in such a generous number of siblings. "How many children do _you_ want?"

"Erm," Jasper fishes for words. "Three, at the very most four."

I give a sad laugh. "Looks like we're both on the shallow end of the kiddie pool. I know for a _fact_ that Gala wants an army of enfants. And the number grows every time I ask her."

"I'll cross that road when I get to it," Jasper says with a smile. "Maybe I'll fashion a deal like you and Hans did."

I snicker, looking back ahead as we approach the castle. "Should I tell him right away? I may not even be pregnant. And me saying I am will instigate a whole lot of conversations I'm not sure I wanna have right now."

"Well, Doctor Spencer sure thinks you're gonna be a mama," Jasper reminds. "And in my humble opinion, I think he's right. You and Hans consummated your marriage not long ago. It only makes sense." Jasper runs a hand through his hair. "I think you should tell him. If ever Gala was pregnant, I'd want her to tell me as soon as possible."

I give a smile of conflict. "You're right. I'll tell him." We reach the castle doors. "Don't tell Gala. Please? She'll tell the whole world before I get a chance to tell Hans and I don't want him to be the last to know."

"How long are you planning to delay this news?"

"I'll tell him today, but you and I both know Gala can't help herself."

Jasper laughs. "Don't worry, you can trust me."

I offer a grateful smile. "Thank you, Jasper. For everything." I wrap my arms around him and he returns the gesture.

"You're gonna be a wonderful, mother, Madolen," whispers he. "I know it."

I crane my neck up to look at him. "I'll take your word for it."

I sit on the patio of the Gardens, wrestling ideas in my mind. I'm trying to decide a good a way of dropping the news so that Hans doesn't get too excited and ahead of himself, and ahead of me.

The weather out here is rainless, if you can believe it. After weeks and weeks of rain and a violent storm last night, there are no showers.

"Maybe I should put it in writing," I start, looking to my yellow bird who sits on the railing that I lean my forearms on. "That's a good idea, isn't it, Fabrice? That way he can process it before coming to me." Fabrice doesn't look too impressed with me. "Eh, you're right. That's the chicken's way out." I shift my weight from leg to leg, as I rest my head on the railing. The sun has long since set out here. Its cousins the stars putting on a show in a foggy night. I glance out at the hammock Da, Hans and I set up, growing oh so nostalgic. Beside me is the round table with steel chairs that Ma and I would so often have unhealthy snacks away from prying eyes. "So many memories," I mumble to myself. I rest my head on my folded arms. I can practically see Da telling the old tale of great grandad Rafael before me with _such_ enthuse. Ma's cheery laughter and snide remarks making both Da and I bashful.

"You look like you could use some company," Hans' voice startles me to reality and I spring up. I notice he's standing right beside me.

"Hans, I, I didn't hear you coming out here," I straighten myself up and run my hands over any wrinkles and frumps on my dress. "Is there something you need?" 

"Ja," he strokes his thumb over my cheek. "Min kone."

I smile, huffing a laugh through my nose. "Well, here I am, amar."

Hans smiles back. "So you are. All alone?" Fabrice gives an abrupt and loud chirp as he flutters up to Hans' face. "I'm sorry, Fabrice. How rude of me."

"Fabrice, envoler," I say. My birdie nestles into the side of my face before taking off to who knows where.

Hans watches him leave with intrigue. "What did you tell him?"

"To go fly out," I smile. "He'll be back though."

"Mm," Hans hums as he looks around us. "Why're you out in the cold?"

"I was just thinking," I say. "I needed a quiet space to do it."

"It's very late to be thinking so hard," Hans says, his eyes focused on me. "There must be something that requires so much time and devotion on your mind."

"Um," I look down to my hands that rise to clutch some of Hans' navy shirt. "There is." I look up and down between Hans and my hands. "I… was just thinking of how to help the hospitalized farmers," I chicken out of saying what I meant to say. "Just burning the night oil." I smile up at Hans.

"Any ideas, min princesse?" questions Hans.

"Non, not yet," I say. "But I'm sure something will come."

"Well," Hans takes my hands and puts them around his neck and I clasp them together. "While we're waiting for something to come," he hoists me up and plants me on the railing, "maybe I can steal you for myself." Hans presses a kiss to my lips and puts his hands on my waist.

"Hans, je suis enceinte," I breathe during a small break.

"Mmm?" Hans pulls me closer before we kiss again.

"J-je suis enceinte," I run a hand through Hans' hair, only feeling bold enough to say the words in a language he doesn't know. Hans' hands move down to my hips as he kisses the corner of my mouth, maybe to give me a chance to speak.

"To kan spille på dette spil," Hans says. "I'll just speak Danish if you're just gonna speak French." He smooches me again and the words just come blurting out.

"I'm pregnant!" I exclaim in a whisper.

"Hvad?" Hans freezes, pulling back to look at me. "What did you say?"

"I'm pregnant, Hans," my chest deflates with a breath that shows the contrast of hot and cold in the air. "I'm pregnant. Je suis enceinte."

Hans grins at me. "Would you consider me a rotten husband if I told you I already knew?"

I cock a brow at him, pulling back to meet his eyes. "You did?"

Hans nods. "That's not even the worst part of it," he gives a quiet laugh. "I planned it. I was expecting it."

"…You _what_?"

"Weren't you expecting it? You had to have known that this would happen."

"I _did_ know that this would happen," I say. "But you intentionally wanted to get me pregnant." I laugh a surprised and baffled laugh, looking around me almost as if searching for a witness to what was just revealed. "I was just having fun. You were on some mission."

"Woah, elskede it wasn't a mission," Hans says. "I was very much hoping for a child, but a born wasn't the goal." I bite back my remarks, huffing through my nostrils and looking away from Hans. My hands begin to slide off down Hans' arms in the journey back to me. "Madolen, don't be like that," Hans catches my hands before they reach me. "Maybe you're upset because you wanted me to be just fooling around like you were and to some extent I was. But it wasn't all just fun and games for me. I was mindful and decided that I wanted a baby. I understand that might upset you but wouldn't you rather _one_ of us was making a deliberate and conscious decision?"

I sigh. "Look, Hans, I'm pregnant and me being mad at you isn't gonna change that. But I feel disrespected that you practically went back on our deal. We both wanted to have kids _after_ the storm and you trying to produce a baby regardless of that understanding is hurtful. Don't you respect my opinion?"

"Of course I do, Madolen," Hans emphasizes. "But no matter what objective I had in my mind you'd still be telling me you're pregnant today. You're really just upset that both of us weren't playing around. For you, it might've been 'if it's meant to be, it'll be', but for me, it wasn't."

"Okay, fine," I say, deciding not to dwell any longer on the topic. "It's fine."

"Madolen, if it's not fine don't say that it is," Hans says, his tone changing from understanding to something more desperate. "If you have a problem with me, I want you to tell me. Talk to me. Tal til mig. Don't pretend the issue isn't there. I'm not invisible." I realize now why Hans is getting stirred. Being brushed off reminds him of his unpleasant past.

"Hans-"

"I'm going to bed, Madolen," Hans kisses my forehead. "Goodnight, elskede."

Hans 

The bedroom door shuts as Madolen enters. She goes about her night time rituals before climbing into bed beside me. She snuggles into my side, arms around me. "You won't find anything on that ceiling." She says, making reference to the way I'm lying, back to the mattress, eyes looking above. "I'm sorry about what happened outside, Hans," she nestles her neck into my ribs. "We had different views but when it's all said and done, I'm excited to be a mama. And I know you'll be a good father, and I'm glad it's you I get to take this journey with."

"Are trying to butter me up?"

"Is it working?"

"You're very charming, but no," I say.

"That's fair," Madolen props herself up so that her face is hovering above me. "You're not invisible. Especially not to me. I _am_ sorry. Really. I was just frustrated and wanted us to stop before a fight started and you can clearly see how well that worked out." After watching me for a moment she sighs and shimmies up the bed so that she can tuck her face between the crook of my neck. "Don't sleep mad at me?"

A period of silence draws on as I wrestle with a tactful way to say what I mean to say. I could tell from the first day that I met Madolen that she may have some passive-aggressive behaviours, but I'd hoped I was wrong. "I need you to say what you want to say," Madolen lifts her face to gaze into my features again.

"I didn't want things to escalate, I'm sorry," Madolen looks down and fiddles with the material of my shirt.

"I'd rather we fight and hash it all out instead of harbouring resentment in the name of a temporary and fragile peace," I look at Madolen who refuses to look back. My arm trails up and down her back in a bid to show her I'm in a more forgiving mood. She meets my eyes. "Can you work on that, elskede?"

Madolen nods. "Mmhmm." Her eyes show signs of tears and she looks up to the ceiling.

"Madolen, are you crying?"

"Non, non…" she sniffs. "Oui, je pleure. I am, I'm crying."

I smile fondly at Madolen as she tries and fails to cage her tears. "Madolen, I'm not upset at you."

"I know," she nods, laughing. "They just won't stop."

"Come here, elskede," Madolen falls into my arms, her own arms snaking around me. I stroke her head as she softly sobs. "Are you upset?"

"No," she laughs again. "I swear, I'm okay." Madolen looks up at me. "I'm great actually. I'm great."

So this chapter is one of the longer ones and I wrote it much sooner than I thought I would. I hope you had a good read and I'll see you all when next I do.


	14. Chapter 13

A/N: Hi, guys! I hope you're well. You lot obviously know I'm a bit finicky with deadlines of late, but I will continue to publish till I've finished with the fanfiction.

Here's some vocabulary:

Es ist eine Ehre – it's an honour (German)

Ich schätze es – I appreciate it (German)

Guten Nachmittag – Good afternoon (German)

Bonne après-midi – Good afternoon (French)

Je suis désolé. Tu as raison – I'm sorry. You're right. (French)

Disclaimer: I do not own Frozen or the Frozen franchise.

Hans

"Madolen, are you okay in there?" loud retching is my only answer for a while. I try the door and Madolen hollers back.

"I'm fine, Hans!" she coughs for a moment before speaking in a voice that sounds ailed. "I'm okay, just shut the door." Madolen gives way to another wave of nausea and I consider stepping in. "Please shut the door, amar."

"Just yell if you need anything," I scratch my bedhead of hair before, shutting the door with a 'click'.

"Okay, I will," Madolen says. "Thanks, amar."

I step away from the door and open the curtains.

I wasn't prepared to wake up when I did. I was startled awake by Madolen's swift run to the bathroom. Now it's clear that she was answering the very first call of morning sickness and not a week sooner nor later than what Dr Spencer said.

I yawn graciously as I admire the view of the kingdom splayed before me. Although it's rather grey outside and the rain has decided to outshine the sun, I'm still in awe of it every time I see it.

The bathroom door swings open and Madolen sluggishly drags herself back into bed.

"How do you feel?" I question, still glancing at the view.

"Confused as to why women do this to themselves," she chuckles into her pillow.

I turn back and start towards Madolen. I gingerly stroke her back. "We might as well start the day early," I say. "We need to approve of the plans for the barn. And we need to announce our pregnancy, and supervise that people are preparing to grow crops in their gardens."

"No one's up at this time," she grumbles, turning to lay on her back. She smiles at me. "Listen to how quiet it is." Madolen takes my hand and squeezes gently. "Let's sleep for a _tiny_ bit more."

I return the smile. "Don't tempt me, elskede," I kiss her hand and pull her up. "We've got a head start for a reason."

"You're so _boring_ ," Madolen hops up. "But I am feeling peckish."

…

Madolen and I sit at the table in the Dining Hall, having our fill of breakfast. "Breakfast is good, huh?" I comment on the way Madolen scarfs down her bacon and eggs.

"Mmm," she smiles at me and wipes her mouth with a serviette.

She downs her glass of fresh mixed berry juice and I watch her intently as I speak. "When should we tell 'em?"

Madolen looks knowingly at me, "Hhmm?"

"When should we let everyone know about the born?"

Madolen sets her fork and knife down before she responds. "When do you wanna tell them?" she looks over to me.

"I want to tell everyone now, but I also want to respect Casmont's traditions on the matter," I down my orange juice.

Madolen smiles at me. "We usually tell as per the desires of the wedded couple so long as it gives enough time for all the socials that take place."

"Socials?" the edge of my mouth jumps in anticipation at the idea. I've almost lost interest in my breakfast entirely.

"Oui," Madolen gives an emphasizing nod. "We have to schedule a time for Pastor Clemente to give his blessings and that'll be a whole event in itself. Then we have to appear at all sorts of agricultural sites that'll be set up by the kingdom in honour of the baby."

"You mean to say they'll build a building for the child?"

"Not necessarily," Madolen says. "They could build a building in _honour_ of the child. Baby Westegaard won't have the power to decide what happens with it, but it'll be named after him or her and for the service of the people. I got a ship made in my reverence _Madame Madolen_. Da got a road named _Wiatt Way_. It's the road that leads to the castle from the docks. The very road that you trekked the night we met."

"So there was never a road that lead to the castle?"

"There was, but it wasn't nearly so marvellous," Madolen tells. "It was broadened and dawned with all sorts in celebration of his birth."

"So… _if_ we have a dozen children we'll have a dozen little sites and streets and ships and orchards in the children's awe?"

"Oui, that's correct."

"Wow, you can really make a man wish he was born of Casmont royalty," I pile the last of my eggs and bacon into my mouth. "Is that all?" I smirk with dryness in my tone.

Madolen smiles at me and takes my hand. "We have to set a date to invite your family to see the birth. In fact, almost all of Casmont will be there for the birth. Those that can fit in the castle at least. It's… a lot of pressure."

I know Madolen to be a private girl. I can tell the idea of a large crowd of men and women attending the birth of our first child and all our children weighs on her shoulders. "Are you… comfortable with that?"

"I'm not excited to give birth for a number of reasons," she smiles despite her tone. "But I'd be lying if I said that a large crowd isn't a big factor in my hesitance. But I'll be fine. I may not agree with the tradition, but it's a tradition that's been passed down from generation to generation."

"Well, births of Royals in the Southern Isles are private," I start. "The born is just as much of my blood as he is yours. I could make it easier for you."

Madolen seems hopeful. "I… I _would_ like that." She scratches her forehead before returning from her hope high. "But it's best if we do the public birth. At least for the first child. I'd better honour everybody if I started off doing things this way."

"Of course, elskede," I grin kindly at her. "I understand." I lean back in my seat almost ready to begin my day. "You don't think you should see Spencer sometime today? This is the first you've ever had a bout of morning sickness?"

Madolen grins at me, "That's exactly where I was going."

…

Madolen

"You and I are gonna be thick as thieves, we are," Gala says to my stomach in a voice very much used to speak to infants. "Oh, _yes_ we are! Oui! _Oui!_ "

"Gala, I'm sure the baby can't hear you yet," I say from my seat in the lobby of the Hospital. It's been a while since I met up with Spencer, and I'm eager to share some news with him.

"Can you say tante Gala? Can you my angel?" Gala clearly isn't paying me any mind, and I grin to myself at how she speaks to my flat stomach.

Every now and then a nurse passes by, congratulating me with a beam and asking if they can do anything for me. It only reminds me of how urgently Hans and I need to announce our pregnancy. I nip on my lower lip as ideas bounce around in my head for the ceremony.

"My Princess," comes Spencer's voice as he enters the lobby. "Milady Gala. It's nice to see the both of you."

"Hello, Spencer," I stand and shake his hand. "I'm sure you can guess why I'm here today."

"Morning sickness?" grins Spencer.

I nod, "In all its glory." I shrug. "You were right. I'm pregnant."

"Is it a girl or a boy?" Gala chirps into the conversation.

"Well, I love that zest and confidence in me, but even _I_ couldn't tell you that right this minute," Spence says. "I'm afraid modern medicine isn't incredibly precise in terms of telling the sex of an unborn child. But between an experienced woman like Hettie – who's delivered her share of babies – and me, we should establish a that later in the pregnancy."

"Well, call me crazy but I think we're expecting a little princess," Gala says giddily.

"Regardless of the sex of the child, we must be sure that we take the best care of the little one," Spencer says. "Starting with meals. I don't want you skipping any, and I want you to eat plenty of fruits and vegetables. I understand that it'll be… difficult in the current state of weather, but any chance that you get you should take." Spencer pulls a notebook out of his coat and scribbles somethings down. "I encourage you to keep active, as long as possible. High levels of activity tend to smoothen the birthing process." Spencer rips the page out of his notebook and hands it too me.

I read over the contents of the page, it contains a variety of foods to eat. "Is there anything I should expect?"

"Nausea, heartburn, a full bladder, swollen ankles, bizarre cravings, back ache, sensitive breasts, hypersensitive smell, loss of memory, headaches, light-headedness and a beautiful baby for you, your husband and Casmont," Spencer smiles. His mood turns grim. "Gala, may I steal Princess Madolen away?"

"Of course," Gala nods to Spencer. She squeezes my hand supportively before Spencer leads me upstairs and down to his office. The ward full of ailed people is significantly emptier and gloomier.

Spencer shuts the door behind him and addresses me. "I hate to spoil to mood, but I must inform you that a number of the farmers that came down from the Fields have passed." He sighs and pinches his nose. "It won't be long until the others pass too." Spencer puts a hand on my shoulder. "I know that you and the prince want to save everyone, but as a physician, I know all too well that it's impossible. The citrus recovered should be put to use feeding the healthy residents of Casmont. Even if we save the injured men and women, they'll likely never be able and or willing to farm again."

"Doctor-"

"I advise you as a physician to consider the future of Casmont, and not the past."

"…As I always do," I sigh. "It's just a hard piece of advice to accept."

"I understand, Princess Madolen," says Spencer. "But I know you understand me as well."

"I do," I breathe. "Thank you for your advice, Doctor."

Spencer grins weakly, "We'll make them as comfortable as we can while they're here. Believe me when I say that I wish these decisions didn't have to be made," Spencer turns to open his office door. As he struts a foot out of the door her turns back to me. "You'll be a good mother, Princess. Congratulations."

…

"Would you like to have the festivities at the cathedral or back in the Gardens?" questions Mia, taking note of all my ideas for the baby's announcement. I pace around in the ballroom, where my mind continues buzzing. "Or perhaps in this very room?" Mia spins, her bob-styled ginger hair following her as she raises a hand to the high-ceilinged, champagne coloured room.

I purse my lips. "It might be best to just eat right at the cathedral," I say, coming to a stop. "The weather may be just as dreadful as it is right now, and I don't want people trudging around in the rain back and forth." Mia jots down the arrangement. "Once Pastor Clement gives his blessing, the kissing trail will begin, and then people can start eating. We're trying our best to ration food, I wonder if what we offer will even be considered a feast."

"We don't need to have one if it'll compromise Casmont, your Highness."

I sigh as I step into the dim light of the large windows. "Of course we do. I just want to find a comfortable medium. We have plenty of fish, we can have a sea based feast." Mia comes up to join me by the window. My gaze is still focused on the crashing weather outside. "We could have fishcakes and barnacle soup." I finally turn to face Mia. "You'll check with Jakob if he has enough seafood to spare?"

"I will," she nods. "This is going to turn out just fine, don't you worry, Princess Madolen. You're in good hands." Mia's bright brown eyes beam at me, her youthful energy shining through. "Pastor Clemens will be informed, as will the people of Casmont as soon as possible."

"And you've let Hans' family know that we're having a baby?"

"I have, Princess," Mia tells, putting me more at ease that things are under control in at least one aspect of my life.

"Danke, Mia," I smile. "Ich schätze es."

"Es ist eine Ehre," she grins back before heading out. On her way out into the hallway, Hettie steps into the ballroom a motherly smile on her lips.

"Bonne après-midi, Hettie," I chirp, strutting to meet her halfway. "Is something wrong?" my voice echoes off of the empty ballroom.

"Non, non, my love," Hettie says. "I just wanted to remind you that you have another meeting with Jakob today about the livestock and their feed."

"Merci, Hettie, I was just heading that way," I give Hettie a brief hug before hurrying over to the Council area where I find only Jakob. "Guten Nachmittag, Jakob," I greet, taking a seat across from him at the sleek long table.

"Guten Nachmittag, Princesse Madolen," Jakob says with a faint smile.

"Did I make you wait long?"

"Nein, I just got here," says Jakob. "Where's Prince Hans?"

"I'm sure he'll be here soon."

As if on cue, Hans comes through the doors of the Council area and pulls out a seat beside me, offering his greetings. He plants a kiss on my cheek and sits down in the drawn out seat. "Forgive me, I had some things to wrap up before this gathering."

"It's alright, we haven't started yet," I give a small grin. "I have an idea – a solution – for the feed."

"By all means, Princess, share it," Jakob edges closer in his seat.

"We should build the barn underground, like a cellar," I start. "But given the conditions of the storm, we'll start by storing the feed in the stagnant ships. The majority of our ships aren't going out to sea during this time, and we've no real use for them – until now."

"We _will_ have imports later, Madolen," Hans reminds. "And perhaps even exports."

"But for the time being, those imports aren't occupying the fleet of ships just bouncing in the bay," I assert. "When we need to import something, we'll address that. For now, the only ships coming to us are the ones from the Southern Isles. All of that considered, we shouldn't need the others." I give an affirmative nod. "I've decided."

"Very well," Hans nods. He looks to Jakob. "What's happening with the shark nets?"

"We shouldn't need more than three more days," Jakob answers. "The weather has given us only a few hours to work of late."

"We've had an almost endless supply of seafood," I bring up. "Do we still have that now?"

"We do," Jakob tells. "We bring in more and more fish every day."

I internally sigh. "Good."

The meeting draws on, Jakob, Hans and I discussing the dimensions and arrangement of the new Barn and how best to store the food on the ships docked in the Harbour. The sun soon falls into the shore and Jakob parts to get started in the monumental task ahead of him. Meanwhile, I have a heavy decision to make, and it gnaws on me from the inside.

"Hans, are you busy?"

…

Hans

"…Spencer thinks I should withhold resources from the farmers who've gotten sick," Madolen speaks up after a long moment of eating in silence. I gaze at her with interest to hear what more she has to say. Her eyes are pasted to her dish, watching with an almost hypnotic look on the slow stir she has going on her soup. "I've been in charge just a bit over a month and there's such a decision thrown my way."

"Thrown _our_ way, min elskede," I slurp up a spoonful of the crayfish soup.

Madolen gives a bashful look at me. "Je suis désolé. Tu as raison." She scratches her head. "I've just been preparing for this my whole life and now it's starting to fall to bits."

"That's why I'm here," I nudge my leg against Madolen's under the table. "That's why I married you – to help."

Madolen sets her spoon down and clasps my kneecap, rubbing her thumb over it. Her eyes no longer meeting mine. "I know, I just… forget. But I know you're behind me." she looks at me finally. "I'm behind you too." She sucks in both of her full lips before speaking again. "What should we do?"

"We do our job," I say as tactfully, but realistically as I can. "Being in power is painful sometimes, elskede. But you and I both know it isn't all pain. But you and I both know it isn't all pleasure."

"I guess we do," Madolen squeezes my kneecap. "What do we tell everyone?"

"The truth, elskee," I say. "They'll understand. We aren't in any easy situation."

"I know they'll be those that get it," Madolen begins. "But the reminder won't see what was see. We're looking out for _all_ of them, and that sadly means… letting some of them go."

I stare at Madolen a moment. She knows what's best for Casmont, but her people pleasing nature – that I just about looked down on her for the day we met – is keeping her from doing what we know is right. A part of me wonders if Madolen would get it done without me. Not because she can't see reason, but because she cares far too much for the approval of _everybody._

"Let me handle it, elskede," I tell. Her head turns sharply in my direction.

"What're you gonna do?"

I return with a solid and sure expression, "What needs to be done for Casmont. Of course, we'll be making the decision _together_ -we're a unit- but I can tell you can't bear the pain that the people will certainly respond with. I'll take the brunt of it."

"Hans, no, we're partners-

"And where I can't, you _can._ Where you can't, I _can_ ," I tell. "We make each other strong. Right?"

Madolen manages a genuine smile. She nods, "Right." She leans over to peck a soft lipped kiss to my stubbled cheek. "I… appreciate it. I appreciate you."

I grin at her. "Me too, elskede."

Alright, thanks for reading. I do apologize for being so late. Don' worry, this train will keep choo chooing until the fanfiction ends.


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